


Again

by Findarato



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Angst, Emotional Porn, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kazama being an ass, Mentioned violence, Pregnancy, Smut, Sort of an AU, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findarato/pseuds/Findarato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Chizuru.” His voice is raspy.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Yes?” Hers is hoarse.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You’re not part of the Shinsengumi like us.” He tilts his head, bangs falling everywhere. “Don’t ever sacrifice yourself. I won’t allow it. I’ll come back from the grave to yell at you.” He feels her shiver, and pulls her closer. “That’s an order.”</i>
</p><p>---</p><p>(Not so much of a rewriting or rehashing of the original game or the anime, but more like a “what-if” scenario that I was intrigued by. The idea came from <i>leaveittiltomorrow</i> on tumblr, who graciously gave me permission to write this.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** IF/DF/Otomate owns Hakuouki, Kazuki Yone owns Hakuouki’s character designs.  
>  **Spoilers:** Hakuouki in general, up to where it’s anime-only. Definitely spoilers for season two (Hekketsuroku). Mentions of events in Reimeiroku/Zuisouroku. Also notes stuff in the Sekkaroku OVAs. And then it switches back to game canon, sort of for some scenes. AU in some ways, but not quite on.  
>  _This fic does not coincide/connect to any of my other fics._

**_Again_ **

**.**

_I will hold you forever,_

_through swords and spears and shattered bronze._

_I will never let you go_

_to make up for the one time I did._

**.**

**I.**

_May, 1868_

"Hijikata-san…"

He knows he's taking the steps down the path too quickly. Too carelessly. Too everything.

However, he doesn't care.

He was too late.

This couldn't even be atonement. Not even when his knee buckles and he pitches forward and almost smashes his forehead into unforgiving stone. Not when his neck wound bleeds again or when his palms sting from bracing himself. A hundred falls don't make up for this.

Hijikata is well-acquainted with failure. He knows grief very well. However, being robbed of his final chances to say goodbye? That's cruel. That's so fucking cruel of life, making him so helpless to stop these things. Things people _did_ for _him_. Kondou surrendered so that he wouldn't use up more of his life. Meanwhile, Souji used up the last of his life protecting him. How can he repay that? Is there even a point in repaying those that couldn't see your efforts?

Chizuru kneels next to him. Dully, he looks at her, expecting something. Anything. Maybe for her to scold at him about going too fast.

She simply reaches for his hands. "You have gravel in them," she says, a trace of tears still in her voice. "We should remove it."

Oh.

With tired eyes he watches as she cleans out his palms. It's not like they'll hurt for long, thanks to rasetsu healing. But it still stings, all the little pebbles and dirt. She pauses to wipe her face, but her hands are steady. When she is finished, she lingers a little longer before letting go.

He should say thank you. Say something. Instead he rises from his fallen position and continues the walk back. Pink and white is in the corner of his vision; she keeps up with him well enough, saying nothing.

They're dead, and they won't be the first. He ought to have expected it. He ought be prepared. But Kondou, then Souji? In that order, and so soon? It's not that he's playing favourites—he's known them the longest. He knew Kondou before they both had fame, when they could sit next to river and talk for yours. He's played with Souji before (more like chased him because he woke up to find ink on his face or his things hidden) and endured the dumb inconsequential jokes and pranks.

One, beheaded.

The other, killed in action.

At least Souji hadn't gone quietly. That, he knows would've been worse. Watching him fade every day would have been crueller. But it didn't soften the blow.

They're finally at the end of the stairs and he leans against a wall as he breathes. He wonders what would happen if he stood directly in the sun today for hours and let it burn, let it hurt. Would it eventually kill him? Pain laces his sides and chest, burning worse than the sun. It's in contrast to the cold morning air that reminds him he didn't even bother with an outer kimono.

If he had been in time to help…what use would he actually have been? He's pretty sure people had been out to kill him, and Souji, somehow knowing, had stepped in.

_"…_ _fighting like a god, protecting this town…"_

He needs no verification that action was for him. Souji, who wouldn't forgive him for what he did, died for him.

Something clutches at his lungs and chest, forcing him to bend over. And pain, the fickle thing that it is, seizes up and he feels himself falling again, this time towards unconsciousness. The last thing he hears is Chizuru calling his name.

**.**

Everything hurt, but it's nothing new. Hijikata opens his eyes and blinks at the dryness, and then swallows because his throat is dry as well. The ceiling is a familiar one, because he's stared at it for probably a week or so. How is he back? He doubts Chizuru had the ability to carry him.

"You're awake!"

His eyes swivel to his right; there she is, peering down at him as she wrings out a cloth. A smile, and then it edges into a concerned look.

"How did you get me back?" He rubs the side of his head.

"A man passing by helped out."

"I see." Some small amount of luck. Out of habit, he checks for his katana, and finds it returned onto the rack with his wakizashi. "How long was…I asleep." He coughs, throat unhappy with his speaking. It's dark, and the lights are already lit.

A hand presses to his back to help him sit up, and then she hands him a cup. "Most of the day. It's night."

Night. That means he can get up. He sips the hot tea, and wonders how she can still have it at the right temperature. Maybe she has a sixth instinct for these things.

It's nice.

But appreciation only lasts for so long when he thinks on just how he ended up like this. Kondou. Souji. Mostly Souji.

He sighs. "I need to go back up there," he says, looking somewhere across the room. "I have to…"

Souji's sword. He can't leave it there. It would be kicked aside and it would rust.

Chizuru touches his shoulder. "If it's…it's about Okita-san…" Her voice halts on his name. "While you were carried back, I went up there again, and I…" She points to a bundle he hadn't noticed before. "I hope that's all right."

He stares at the wrapped cloth until he remembers he ought to reply. "That's all right." He doesn't even know if he'll bury it, or send it to Souji's sister. Which of those two was less painful of a choice? "Thank you."

"It was no problem." She takes the cup back from him. "Would you like something to eat?"

"No."

"Are you sure? I can prepare something quickly."

"No, I'm not hungry."

"You have to at least eat something with your medicine."

"I'll just take it now. No food." He doesn't think he can stomach anything right now. His head still hurts, his heart still hurts, his body hurts. He just wants to sleep and not think. He just wants to better so he can be out there instead of lying in bed. So he takes the packet full of bitter medicine and downs it quickly with the tea. The taste makes him gag but he forces it down, like the grief that seems to want to rush upwards to choke him.

"Don't drink so fast." Chizuru pats him on the back as she grabs for his hand, the one holding the cup. "I only just rebandaged everything; if you move too much you'll strain them."

"Do I look like I care if I do?"

"…yes?"

"Wrong." He pulls away from her and sets the cup down so hard that she winces at the loud bang it makes. "I don't care. Do you know what I want right now?"

"If you're thinking about fighting—"

"And if I am?"

"You can't right now, Hijikata-san."

He suddenly laughs; fire licks up his ribs and neck but he still laughs anyway. "That's right, I can't. I'm not healing fast enough. Kondou-san is dead. Souji's dead. Probably I'll be the next to die, and then what will happen to the Shinsengumi? Everything's gone to shit and I can't stop any of it from happening. Souji wasn't even supposed to out there. He's supposed…supposed to be Edo."

But dying in Edo and dying here, what difference is it?

"He hated me." Another laugh, this one feeling hollower than the first. "And yet he did this. Why? Was it for Kondou-san? For me? For what? Did he not want to live anymore because Kondou-san is gone or did he know that he was going to die soon?"

"I don't think he hated you, Hijikata-san."

His head snaps up. "What makes you say that?"

Chizuru inches a little closer. "Before he left, he said you were the only one who can lead the Shinsengumi. He also said a lot of other things, like how he would never forgive you. But he never said he hated you." Her hands fold on her lap. "And he told me to look after you. If he hated you, would he have said that?"

"He told you that?" Really? It doesn't sound like Souji. But Chizuru is not a liar, and he doubt she would make something up, even for the sake of reassurance. "I thought he'd call me good for nothing. You didn't hear the whole conversation we had."

"He…he did call you a lot of things. But after all of that Okita-san still told me to look after you."

Hijikata turns away.

Him and Souji, theirs had always been a difficult relationship. Which he does understand, a little. Souji probably thought he usurped his place next to Kondou, and always resented him for that. But it's been years; surely Souji's outgrown that. After carrying out the assassination of Serizawa, there hadn't been all that many complaints from Souji. Thing mostly went smoothly.

…maybe he didn't really know Souji as well as he thought.

And now it's too late.

If he were at full strength, he'd march out right now and tell Saitou he's taking over the front lines, never mind what the others thought. He'd fight and fight until he stood alone in a bloodied field, because that sort of loneliness is easier to better than this, losing people that were like his brothers.

He didn't grieve when his father died, nor weep for his eldest sister. He barely remembers his mother passing; he probably only cried a week before she became a memory.

This is different.

He watched Souji _grow_ _up_. Like a younger brother or cousin. One that kicked at his heels and stole his haiku and made jokes at his expense, but he didn't think Souji would die before him.

One sacrifice after another, for the Shinsengumi, for him…was this the fate of those who dreamed? It's not a dream anymore—its reality, and reality is a mocker. Yes, he got what he wanted, but this is the price he'll pay.

"I shouldn't have let him leave."

"Leave?"

"Leave on his own. Maybe I should have told Saitou to keep him there. He'd put up a fight, but Saitou would deal with him." Like how it's always been.

Except maybe it would've angered him more. But maybe then he would've lived longer instead of defending this place. And maybe Hijikata himself would've been dead.

Was that any better? All the possibilities go through his mind, none of them ending well. "Damn _it_ ," he suddenly grinds out between his teeth. "If Kondou-san hadn't…"

…

No.

It's over. He can't bring back the dead.

He curls his hands in his fists, and curses these injuries that keep him here. He can't fight, he can barely stand. But he doesn't want to sleep. He doesn't want to talk—

What does he want, then?

"Hijikata-san?"

She looks at him, head tilted to one side. She sits on her heels, her hands still in her lap, but if he asked for something, those hands would be instantly ready to move. Oddly enough, he thinks of Saitou.

Nevertheless, despite how upright she is, he can see the tiredness in her eyes, the pallor of skin from no sleep.

"I don't need anything right now," he tells her, flatly. "You can go rest." This room is suffocating him. He knows she won't let him leave, so he'll wait until she's asleep before he goes out to clear his head.

Chizuru merely clasps her hands. "I would like to stay."

"I am telling you to _leave_. I'll be fine."

Her mouth parts and her shoulders stiffen, but otherwise, she stays in place.

"What, do you want me to make that an order?"

"…No."

"Then why are you still here?"

She shakes her head. "Because…" her eyes search his. "I want to stay by your side."

What's so great about his side? He drags people into death and wars. People are killed because of him. His side means blood and horrors and nothing happy. Tainted glory that tasted like iron and bile and ash.

He shoves the blankets aside, and without thinking too much about it, he yanks her by the front of her kimono. He's only done this once before, when drunk and disorientated. Now, he's very sober and very aware, but it seems like either she was too stupid or too stubborn to leave.

"Are you staying for this?" He gestures at his bandages. "For that?" He points to Souji's sword, still wrapped. "If you want money to leave, I can give that to you. I'll even send someone to take you wherever you want. I don't—"

 _I don't need you,_ he almost says.

Except he can't say that without full certainty. Heavens above know that her blood keeps him from tearing himself apart.

"I want to stay," she says without raising her voice. "Because my place is here."

She's not stupid, or stubborn. It would be unfair to call her any of that. At this point, she's nearly a part of the Shinsengumi. She knows secrets, the men, the ideals. She's eaten with them, been in the same battles, tended their wounds.

Slowly, he releases her. How easily fabric crumbled underneath his hands, even though he isn't at his full strength. "I'm not asking you to stay."

Something in her face cracks, but she holds. "I still would like to. Please. Unless I've done something wrong, and you want me to leave…"

"No, you did fine." Why is he so quick to reply? "Never mind."

He rakes his fingers through his bangs. He's not even really angry or annoyed. But he's agitated. Tense. Like he's caged and he needs to tear something out. Like a fight. It swirls with the ache inside his chest and grows with each waiting second. If he stops, it'll all fall out. He wants to punch something, yell at someone—

But not her. Chizuru won't fight him. It's not that she gives in, it's that she'll say something that made more sense than all his reasonings and he's left without an argument. That's not what he wants.

He turns away. "At least, leave me alone for now." Until he can figure out what he's feeling. Until this passes. Until—

"Hijikata-san," she whispers, small hands clenching the cloth of his yukata tightly. Tugging at it, dragging him tightly against her. His entire body stiffens at her bold action, so she realises the material, instead stretching out her arms to encircle his back. "It's all right to mourn. For them."

With one hand, he could break away. Shove her away from him. Yet he sits, transfixed, with her frame pressed to his back. Not unlike the time right after Kondou surrendered.

How many times can he do this?

How many times is she going to see him like this?

She's not even holding him tightly so…why can't he move away?

_It's all right._

He closes his eyes as the heaviness he kept at bay sinks into him, forcibly. He feels himself slide but she somehow manages to catch him, follow him down, and pillow his head with her shoulder even as he grits his teeth and grips her arm.

It hurts.

It fucking hurts.

He admits it. He knows it. The pain is there and all too fresh and like his wounds, they hurt him within and without. He signed up for seeing how far he could go, not for heartbreak…not this.

Not like this.

His throat works but he can't say anything. Can't find the words. So here he is, making an unsightly mess of himself as something in him shakes and he still fights it, even now. But soft fingers stroking the side of his face undoes him more than angry words or a bloody fight and he closes his eyes all the tighter as he crumbles and relaxes against her.

Only a little, though.

Even when he is alone, he tends to shutter his emotions, simply because if he started to let go of them, he would never stop. And he's not ready to do such. Not yet. Not around anyone else. He is still the leader. He has to hold it together. If he doesn't do it while he is alone, then what sort of state would he be if he were around others?

Still, she's warm and solid, saying nothing but meaning everything. And so he breathes until his restraints return and he can open his eyes without fear of tears falling out of them. Grief still eats at his heart, but he no longer wants her to leave. He sits up, slowly, so that her arms slide down and he can hold her hands. They're smaller than his, fitting into his palms. He's surprised they're not perfectly smooth, but despite the slight roughness, they're soft.

As Hijikata studies her, she looks back at him. He notices how her bangs hang down to just touch the collar of her kimono, the line of her neck—all the feminine parts of her that he knew since the day he found her hiding in an alley even though from far away, she still passes easily as a boy.

"How long will you stay here?"

"Forever."

That's not the answer he wants, but he doesn't dislike it. His fingers touch her chin. She doesn't bow her head—she remembers what he told her that one night—if she thinks she's right, then there wasn't a need to bow her head.

She lifts her chin a little higher.

It's not that he can't help himself, or that he really wants to do it—he just does it. Kisses her. It's hardly passionate, more like their lips touched and then he backs up. Her cheekbones are pinker than usual, but she still looks up at him.

How far is she willing to go for him?

Chizuru tucks her hands into his sides, a press of fingers that he can feel even through all his bandages. He reads the rigidness in her shoulders, the careful swallows, and the quick intakes of air.

His lips tingle.

What are they doing? He should order her to leave. Her face should not be this familiar, nor her movements. He should not know how her skin feels. Bloodlust made him familiar. It's not there now, but there is something else that draws him to her, something that has a name he can't name yet. When she touches his hand, he realises he's been gripping her arm, probably too tightly.

He has thought about it before—kissing her, that is. What, everyone has had those thoughts. You think about kissing the people in your life, whether they had soft lips, or if they would slap you for it. So yes, in his mind, he has kissed her before. He had imagined she would pull away, tremble, maybe even cry. Experience tells him he's not a bad kisser, but reactions are always hard to gauge.

However, she does none of the things that he expects. The only quiver is in her eyelashes, maybe in her fingers, but she has not cringed or shed tears. She only looks up at him, lips parted and cheeks as pink as her kimono.

Sometimes, you can actually hear the pause that a mind will make, before it clicks back into place and moves again. It feels like minutes, but it is probably only seconds. Seconds before she shifts herself against him—not tightly, probably because of his injuries, but firmly so that it's not just her supporting his weight. While it's not cold in this room, the warmth that he's often glimpsed from her fleeting touches is now directly against him, permeating him. Sensations rush into his head; this is a good chance to forget, to not think about losses. She's offering herself up, isn't she?

And what if it goes the wrong way? Sensibility crowds back into his mind.

"I'm not myself right now," he says, by means of an explanation. "And probably not thinking this all the way through."

Chizuru takes a deep breath, so deep it feels like he's being breathed in. "I am thinking very clearly," she replies, "and…I said I would stay forever."

_Can you really say that with all certainty?_

The palms of his hands press against her face, his thumbs nearly digging into cheekbones as he looks into her eyes. It's the lack of fear and the evidence of anticipation in her returned gaze that does it.

He kisses her again, the contact of lips nearly painful as teeth digs into skin until she opens her mouth, throat working and audibly exhaling, while her hands clutch at his back and his fingers work in her hair until it tumbles around her shoulders. This is only the second time he has seen her with her hair down. The first time was that night a rasetsu made it into her room and all of them had barged in, and Sannan had been there, and so had Itou…

…not much of a good memory, that night. Still, he remembers thinking how with her hair up, it at least keeps up the boyish appearance she had to retain. With it down, however, she is a different person.

A person that is currently in his arms.

Unlike him who is mostly rigidness and constraint, she's soft. Soft lips, soft skin, soft hands. He would call her pliable if not for her nature, which is sometimes as unyielding as his is. He didn't think he could pull her away from him now, even as they did have to move to shed layers of clothing.

But, what is he doing? Are they touching because he wants it or needs it? Why is she answering this? Why is she letting him lay his hands on her, aligning their bodies and letting him see so much her?

It's tiring to think why.

Hijikata kisses her again and tries not to think anymore. Not when she pauses to touch the side of his face. Not when her fingers splay across his back and hold fast. It's hardly that he's done this before, but it was not the same.

She's familiar, like a presence he's come to expect when he lifts his head at her call of his name. In and out of his room, at his side, at his back…

And now, in his bed as he gasps out and grips her shoulder so tightly it might've left bruises, if not for the fact she is a demon. Her knees bury into his hips, their bones painful he can imagine them snapping. Her quiet moan against his ear causes him to kiss the side of her neck, close to where she's allowed him to take her blood.

"Hiji…kata-san…"

Only she can make his name still sound this respectful under these circumstances when his senses are overwhelmed and he feels like a mess and seconds away from crashing after everything he has felt.

She doesn't move away. Rather, her hand seeks for his and finds it, their palms glued together after she coaxes his hand to open from the dead grip on her shoulder. Her weight against him doesn't irritate his wounds, and when he concentrates on how she is _here_ , he can breathe.

Here is one life that he hasn't snuffed out from war or bloodshed or sacrifice.

A remnant, a reminder.

"Chizuru." His voice is raspy.

"Yes?" Hers is hoarse.

"You're not part of the Shinsengumi like us." He tilts his head, bangs falling everywhere. "Don't ever sacrifice yourself. I won't allow it. I'll come back from the grave to yell at you." He feels her shiver, and pulls her closer. "That's an order."

Because he needs one person to promise him this. One person who he can give this duty to. As he stares at her, he knows he isn't exactly daunting with his tousled hair and bleary eyes. But she has to understand this.

Chizuru strokes his cheek, hushed and solemn. Emotions break across her face but she finally nods. "I won't sacrifice myself."

He finally relaxes. "Good."

She won't end up like Inoue. Kondou. Souji.

Then, what would she end up as?

The light dies out; they don't bother to replace it. She doesn't move much, expect to pull the blankets over them and check his bandages one last time before she falls asleep, and he follows suit because he can't seem to do anything else.

Ramifications actually hit when he wakes up in the middle of the night, disorientated at the body next to time until he remembers. They had done without ceremony and without prior discussion. He knows enough about women that he's been careful in the past, but a few hours ago…

… _shit_.

Hijikata presses his hand to his face.

She might not ever have sacrifice her life, but she has sacrificed something valued more than life. And he had been the one to take it from her.

The question of what she is to him still remains, and he admits he is afraid of the answer.

**.tbc.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hijikata is overthinking this, like he usually does. Whatever will I do with him…
> 
> So this fic shaped up to be ten parts. I think I was trying for four, and then it became eight, and finally ten. I started off a little too enthusiastically and then got stuck for a while, but I’ve found my rhythm back again. I’m posting this first chapter now as an incentive for me to actually get off my ass and continue writing. (like today I finally finished part three after being stuck on it…gdit self.)
> 
> …btw yes, this fic will be another heartbreaker. You guessed it. :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musings, in Chizuru's POV. I love writing her.

**II.**

_July, 1868_  


Two months and counting.

Chizuru bends over her sewing, hands busy while her mind wanders. Hijikata is finally well, and he resumed his usual duties quite some time ago. They met up with the remaining Shinsengumi, and…things are quiet.

It's the quiet that speaks of a very hard future, like when you close your eyes before you make some life-changing decision. But she's used to it, and she'll enjoy the calm as long as she can. The summer is warm, she keeps herself occupied with various chores and errands, and she keeps an eye on the people around her.

Like Hijikata.

He's…better? For a lack of words to describe his state. She knows that he is keeping himself preoccupied with so many tasks he doesn't have time to think. Few breaks. Few conversations. Little sleep. Otherwise, he is his usual self, ordering people and going to meetings, and planning skirmishes.

They didn't exactly speak much about the night certain things had transpired…

_She woke up to see Hijikata sitting at his desk. At first, she sat up, but the blankets slid down bare skin and everything from last night rushed back. She yanked them back up when he noticed she was awake. He set his brush down and turned towards her._

_They had looked at each other like that, for a long moment._

_"_ _Good morning," she ventured, "did you sleep well?"_

_"_ _I did. You?"_

_A nod._

_He opened his mouth and then closed it. They looked at each other some more; she studied the lines of his face and wondered._

_"…_ _Chizuru."_

_"_ _Yes?"_

_"_ _Are you all right with what we did last night?"_

_She shifted her feet, toes curling in fabric. "I'm all right with it."_

_"_ _Are you sure?"_

_"_ _I am." Another nod, this one so forceful her hair fell away from her shoulder. "Because I want to stay by Hijikata-san's side."_

_"_ _Just remember what you promised me."_

_"_ _Hai."_

_Hijikata looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead he inclined his head politely, and then he turned back around to his work._

That was mostly it. Over the past few weeks, there had been some more encounters. By now, she knows how to make his breathing quicken, and how to touch him. He knows where she likes to be kissed, and when to hold her hand. They are quite well-acquainted with each other's bodies, nearly as well as they know each other's schedules.

A stinging in her finger brings her out of her thoughts; the needle went astray. She sucks on the tiny pinprick, swallowing the taste of her own blood. Blood that she has shared with Hijikata. She wonders if it tastes good. However, asking him that is impossible. He hates bringing it up, hates taking her blood until she urges it, and every time he has to, he apologises and cannot look her in the eye.

She only hopes that he will not apologise for sleeping with her, for if he did…

A lot of reactions come to mind. When you offer yourself and it is received at first, but then later rejected, it hurts. You wonder if you are good enough or if they have grown tired of you. Or, worse—that they think it was a mistake from the start. Such words would break her heart.

Her hand presses over her chest as she straightens her back and sighs.

While it's not hard to be subtle, she wonders if he has picked up on the fact she is more than just fond or affectionate about him. Seeing him doesn't make her blush, but sometimes things he said, or her own thoughts—they just led and she accidentally follows, and she knows it's more than just liking him. It's not a passing fancy or a crush.

Instead, Chizuru defines them right now by what they do; formalities can come later. She smoothes the shirt in her lap—on of his, actually. He used to sew his own rips, but after that one time Saitou hinted to her and she caught him sticking himself with a needle as well as the loose uneven stitches, him cursing and looking frustrated—she took over. Like how she took over so many other things.

She remembers the first days with clarity, of staring at walls and screen and straining her ears for news. She's hardly impatient, but it's a far cry from the life she's used to. She'd catch herself wishing she'd never left or that she had waited to hear from Matsumoto-sensei before setting out.

But those were the earliest times. As she holds up the shirt to the light to inspect her work, she thinks upon far fonder memories…

She'd give a lot for those days. It's strange only when she thinks about it, that her closest friends these days weren't women her age. Her closest family was a group of banded together samurai that fought in sincerity's name.

And she currently sleeps with their leader.

…maybe she shouldn't think too much about _that_. When she rubs her cheek with the back of her hand she can feel the hot flush. But even without thoughts of that, he still dominates a lot of her thoughts. His well-being, his matters, his fights. Would it be pretentious to say she feels that she is part of the Shinsengumi, despite not being officially a member?

Her teeth make an audible click as she snaps the thread off. One torn sleeve—mended. She folds it up, putting away her other things. These days, her belongings only make up a small bag. When she first set out for Kyoto, she hadn't known how to pack—what to bring, what to leave behind. But once you got used to it, it's not so bad. Her clothes are little worn but wearable, and she didn't worry about her appearance (thought that didn't stop the wistfulness that runs through her when she sees women her age). She has a place to sleep, food to eat—

"Chizuru?"

—and people that cared about her.

She gets to her feet when the door slides open. "Welcome back…you're early today."

"Mhm." He brushes his bangs out of his face, eyes darting distractedly. "We finished things up and there wasn't anything extra to discuss. Is Shimada around? Or Sai—" A wince. "I still need to figure out what's up with Sannan-san and Heisuke."

"He went out to oversee something with some of the newer recruits. I think…" her voice trails off. "He said he would be back in a matter of hours." She says nothing about Sannan or Heisuke.

So much for quiet. The last news of the others they knew had been terrible.

"…Hijikata-san, are you hungry? I can prepare something."

"What?" He finally looks at her. "No, I have work."

"But…" She subtly moves, so that she's half blocking one of the inner doors. "You can take a break until Shimada-san comes back, right?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Oh, you have something in mind?"

"W-well…" No, not really. She racks her mind, and it seizes upon the first thing that comes up. "I heard some of the soldiers talking, and they mentioned a shop that had nice udon. I hadn't had the chance to go to see for myself…but I'm sure it's good and you would enjoy it, so if you have some free time—"

Chizuru stops. She's rambling, isn't she. And her face is probably the shade of her kimono. She wants to see him outside and away from his desk, yes, but she always wants more time with him that isn't over burdens and worries.

"Do you want to go, or do you want me to go." His tone is even, neither annoyed nor excited.

"I…I would like to go. With you." After she washes her face and calms her heart. The silence that follows is a little thick, and she looks at the floor, at his feet, the wall.

"One hour."

She looks up.

Hijikata rubs the back of his neck before he replies. "I can spare an hour. Maybe an hour and a half. But that udon better be worth it." He levels her with a look. "If you weren't a girl, I'd wonder if you were trying to get me drunk."

It's hard to hold back the smile as she bows. "It'd be an honour."

She means it.

**.**

The udon is as good as the rumours. She only wishes the portions weren't so generous. Hijikata is nearly done, but her bowl is still almost full. The taste of miso and spice rolls in her mouth. The noodles were perfect, and the vegetables not overcooked. But it's still too much and she regrets waste.

"…Hijikata-san?"

He looks up mid-slurp.

"Do you want some of mine?"

He swallows before glancing over at her bowl. "You sure?"

"I don't eat very much. But it's really good, isn't it?"

"I'll take your bowl once you eat a little more of it."

"But—"

"I've seen you eat more before. You can afford to eat more right now." And he goes back to his meal.

Chizuru resolves to eat at least all the vegetables and seaweed. Maybe some more noodles. She can't remember the last time she had a meal that she didn't cook…

"If I had more time, I come here more often."

"You would?" How Hijikata can manage to talk and still eat at the same time is amazing. She's never seen him eat this fast either…usually that had been Shinpachi or Heisuke when they weren't fighting.

"I think everyone knows that I'm not good in a kitchen." Sheepish is still an expression she is still unused to seeing on his face. "This place is cheap and good."

"But you can't eat udon every day."

"No?"

"It's bad for you."

"Well, what do you want me to do? I won't always have people around preparing meals."

"I'd cook for you every day," she says without thinking.

He nearly chokes as his head snaps up. For what feels like the umpteenth time, she blushes and concentrates and slurping her noodles. Loudly. Until he blinks and looks away.

"I guess if it's you, that's fine, because your cooking is good…" He says nothing about every day.

Her hand shakes and she nearly drops a chopstick, but she manages a few more bites before she pushes the bowl towards him. She wonders what he is thinking, or if she's being a little obvious.

"Hijikata-san."

"Yes?" The noodles were fast disappearing

"What's…what's your favourite food?"

"My favourite food?" he repeats. "You don't know?"

"I just realised that I never asked." Embarrassed laughter escapes her as she fiddles with her chopsticks. "But I'd like to know."

"Takuwan."

She blinks. "Takuwan?"

"I like the taste, not the smell. I could eat a whole bucket." He finishes her bowl and pushes it to the side, chopsticks laid over the rim. "Does that seem strange to you?"

"No." She knows about pickling and vaguely remembers making pickled vegetables a few times. "Daikon is healthy."

"I suppose." He doesn't seem to think much of that. "What about you?"

"I like unagi," she replies after some thought. "Unagi over rice. And dango." Dango is a weakness and it makes her think of Sen.

"Maybe we should see if they any of that here." He rests his chin on his hand, staring out at the streets. "The last time we had dango was…well a long time ago."

He uses the word "we," and she can't understand why that makes her so happy. The inclusion? The fact it is him? "I could ask if there's a place that sells them."

"I can take you…after I figure out the mess Sannan-san got us into." Maybe twenty or thirty minutes had transpired since they sat down, and they're already back on the hard topics. "It's strange we haven't seen him or the rest of the Rasetsu Corps. Not even Heisuke."

"I'm sure he's fine…" Worry prickles her, but this is Heisuke. He's…he couldn't be the sort to betray them. But she'd dearly like to see him again to figure things out. "Have you heard anything at all?"

"No, nothing. Shimada's too busy to send out for the work he used to do as inspector, and I don't trust anyone else enough to carry out this task." A pause. "It's too dangerous for you."

"I'm sorry." Sometimes it feels like she apologises too much, but what can one do but apologise for being unable to help? She doesn't know the area well enough, probably couldn't outrun soldiers chasing her, and she'd only barely hold her own in a fight without other people around.

But she wants to reassure him. For every apology she would offer five different ways of encouragement. Watching him now, outlined by the setting sun that makes his hair glow red, she wonders what she would say to actually make him smile. Or, at least briefly put aside the heavy issues at hand. She knows what would upset him, and his grief is familiar as well, but…his happiness is an entirely different matter.

"Chizuru."

"Ah—yes?"

"You've been looking at me for the past few minutes with…this look on your face. Like you're worried."

"I was…" She finds her cup of tea and wraps her fingers around it. "I have a strange question I want to ask you."

"…a strange question?"

"It's not quite exactly _strange_. Just…out of the blue." Chizuru decides to be honest. "What makes you happy?"

"Happy?"

"Or if not that…what things do you enjoy? Things that let you think…it's not as bad."

The buttons on his jacket clink against the table as he shifts in his seat. "I wrote some haiku. Went fishing a few times. There's festivals, too. Drinking. Generally what other people do to have fun. But you're not asking that, are you?"

"Not exactly…" she enjoys things like that too. Things that made you forget. But she's not talking about forgetting and shoving to the side things that were important.

"…hanami."

"Really?"

He gives her a half-smile. "Does that surprise you?"

She studies his head, and remembers the first day they met. "Not all that much." _I think you look beautiful with cherry blossoms._ But she can't say that out loud.

"It's not that they make me 'happy.' But they…remind me of things." He pauses to drink his own tea. "Life's short, we take what we can before we die…but the blossoms come back every year. People die, but if they're important, if they've made a difference, others will remember them. Year after year, and maybe…hah, maybe the Shinsengumi will make it into those books that Kondou-san loves."

This is one of the few times Hijikata says Kondou's name, and his name doesn't seem to hold as much hurt as it once did when it passes his lips. She takes this as a good sign. "I think that's a beautiful concept."

"It's like hope." Hijikata lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "For me, anyway."

It's more sad than happy, she thinks. But it's very much like him. When he talked about cherry blossoms, the features on his face softened, there was more colour in his face, and even his voice lost some of its usual sternness.

"Hijikata-san, someday…I want to see the cherry blossoms with you." She tilts her head up to catch his eye. "If we ever get the chance."

"There was that one time all of us went out…but I don't remember much of it except getting drunk and I think Heisuke and Harada put flowers in my hair. Heh." He snorts. "The atmosphere was awful. Those idiots."

No ire is in his voice when he says "idiots."

"I remember." If she were more daring, she'd put her hand on his. "I'd like another chance to do that."

An emotion she can't name fills his eyes, and then, to her shock, he pats her the head. "We'll see," he says, graciously ignoring her wide eyes and open mouth, "It'd be a nice, quiet thing…"

"Mm, quiet." His hand leaves her head, and she immediately misses it. "I'll look forward to it."

He nods, and the emotion leaves his eyes, replaced by his usual look of imperturbable calm.

They spent the rest of the hour in amiable silence, drinking tea and watching the passer-bys until the sun completely sets.

**.**

She can't seem to fall asleep. So what's wrong? Almost nothing. She had eaten, done her chores, made sure that Hijikata was in bed before she turned in as well, and prepared things for tomorrow. Everything was fine.

Except her heart. She presses a fist over the area, and wonders why it's restless. It hadn't even been this bad during the nights they shared beds, but then during those times she hardly did as much thinking. Why is when you have the space to think, your thoughts want to run and jump down cliffs after climbing awful heights?

The afternoon had been beautiful.

She got to see more of the side of him that he barely shows, and he had touched her head. It had been warm and it was…nearly perfect.

So, the question begs—what's wrong with her?

Chizuru finally sits up, looking but not really seeing the wall. Her hands run through her hair, then rub the back of her neck. She bites her lip. She counts to ten and then backwards.

…

And then she flings the covers back and heads for the door. Her pulse is awkwardly loud and she nearly trips, but it's not like she doesn't have a right to this.

She lies the palm of her hand against his door.

This should be allowed, right?

"Hijikata-san?"

She hears him get up, then the shuffle of feet. He slides the door open. "Chizuru?"

"May I—" Her lips stick together and she forces them to move. "I just want to be by you." Does her sentence make sense? Does he know what she's asking for?

His gaze isn't piercing, but it's blunt in ways that leave her standing still and ramrod straight.

"That's fine." He opens the door wider. "You're the letting the cold in."

"Ah, sorry." She moves as quickly as she can, shutting the door. His hand finds her, and together they move towards his bed. He lets her slip under the blankets first before he lies down.

…that's all that happened. No, it's not much. But sometimes, she wants more than heat or a flame. There's something about a presence, about closeness. The instant she saw him, her heart felt both better and more wistful. What does it want? Did it want them lying back to back, his breathing audible? It did want his scent, which emanates all around her?

"The udon was very good."

Startled, she nearly jerks upright.

"I'll probably go back. What do you think?"

"I-I think that's a wonderful idea." That's such a flat statement and she wants to swallow those words. "So if you have free time another day…"

"But I also like your cooking."

She burrows her nose into the sheets and says nothing.

"When you first started cooking for us, it was all right. Come to think of it, it was probably the ingredients that were the problem. Once you started buying things yourself, it was better. I thought I was doomed forever to eat Souji's over-salted vegetables or Saitou's tofu." He chuckles, just a little. She can feel it when his shoulder bumps into hers. "Thank you."

_Say something._

But she lies there, transfixed by his words. Until he fully relaxes and falls asleep, his breaths evening out and the silence between his breathing and her heartbeat taking up space.

The flush finally disappears from her face after a few minutes, but the thrill at the words "thank you" echoes until she has to roll over and press her forehead to his back, just to make sure he's there.

This is her place.

She doesn't want to be anywhere else. Yes, she still has to find her father, and yes, she's worried about Sannan and Heisuke and the others, but here, she's just been thanked and it was more than enough.

Sleep finally comes to her, and she keeps her head on his back and his words in her heart.

**.tbc.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think one of the things I liked about Hakuouki is how naturally all the relationships proceed. None of that "love at first sight, our eyes meet and we just know we're meant to be together, now let's write a million gushy things about how this world is against us and our love etc" /insert more romance clichés. It's not easy to say "I love you," (and honestly society sort of makes those three words mean less than they really do) but there's so many ways to show it.
> 
> That being said, I think I was watching the movie and I got to the part where Hijikata's like "hey let's meet up later at that shop" and then he never shows up. Seriously he just got up and left. Anyway, it got me thinking "what if they had something like a date. Sort of." I thought it'd be cute. They never really got a chance for that beyond in Zuisouroku/Memories of Love when there's that festival event thing. Plus in the first movie they shared onigiri and it was really sweet moment—they needed more of that.
> 
> Final note—takuwan is pickled daikon radish and it's a fact Hijikata likes it. And yes once he took a bucket of it because he was allowed to. Hijikata, please…
> 
> And now we go back to the angst. Hakuouki is 80% angst in any case.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-Sendai Castle things. Warning for smut.

**II.**

_September, 1868_

It's one thing to feel a hand go cold in yours before you released it to gently lay it on their chest or at their sides, to bid them peace as they passed on.

It's another thing to feel what was once life go up in flames and turn into ash, sliding out of your slackening fingers, with no other trace they have been a force on this earth.

Is this how Souji went? Kondou definitely didn't go this way, and neither did Inoue. But Hijikata is just relieved he's here, finally, to see them go. After being unable to be there for the others, at least he's able to be present. Then the relief fades…because he has no more captains. The rasetsu are all but wiped out. They've once again dwindled, and still the war isn't over.

There's just him.

Him, Shimada, and a girl who isn't even officially part of the Shinsengumi, but no one would probably challenge her claim if she ever said she was. Yet even as they sit there, he can't bring himself to say anything to her as she cries. Briefly, their hands had touched, but when Sannan and Heisuke were gone, her fingers had fallen away. Chizuru is by no means a loud weeper, but sometimes, choked, stifled sobs were worse.

It takes effort to stand up and tell her stop crying. When he looks at her, he…he wonders.

_Am I making her cry, by letting her stay so long with the Shinsengumi?_

He ought to say something. Maybe pat her on the shoulder? _Something_. They'd been intimate for months, yes, but at the same time, there was still distance that neither of them is crossing.

It keeps him from reaching out to her as they walked out, bloody, weary, and aching in more ways than one.

**.**

His room is next to hers, and he can hear her crying. She stopped long enough when they left, but once they're back and cleaned up and probably everyone's asleep or outside on guard, she gives into grief once more. Maybe half an hour passes; she hasn't stopped, and he can't sleep. No, it's not annoyance that keeps him awake. It's…guilt.

And worry.

And his own grief.

He sits up and puts his head in his hands. His eyes glance toward the door, then towards the wall that separates them.

_What can I even say you?_

It's the thought that she might actually cry herself to sleep that gets him to leave his room. He doesn't bother to announce himself, but simply opens the door. Weak light from the hallway spills in; Chizuru turns over and sits up, startled and struggling to wipe her face.

"I-I didn't know you were still awake." Her voice is both hollow with sadness and full with tears. "Did I disturb you? I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "No, you didn't."

"Oh." She presses her hand under her nose as she crawls out of her bed. "Are y-you all right, Hijikata-san? You look pale."

_He_ looks pale?

"I'm fine," he manages to reply, trying to find the words to ask her how she is.

"I can make tea, or find something for you to eat." The sobs give away to hiccups as she fumbles with the lamp and lights it. "We didn't exactly have dinner. What about—"

"Chizuru." How is she still thinking about him?

She stills, eyes downcast. She's small in stature, yes, but never has she looked this small before. Not since the first day she had been hiding in that alley. When she lifts her face up and he sees she's shaking, he finally casts aside what doubt he's feeling to swiftly cross the room and gather her up in his arms.

"There is nothing for you to do right now." Is this his voice? He can't recall him ever using this tone…

"But—"

"Hush." He combs his fingers through her messy hair as he tries to sort his mind.

She's been through so much, and yet, she's still thinking of him. Her father was killed in front of her, and he knows that she and Heisuke were friends. She has seen him killing enemies in a rage when Kondou sacrificed himself, saw him break down after Souji's death, and still stayed. She cared for him when he was injured, to the point of weariness on her part. What has he done for her, all this time? Slept with her? It was more like she allowed him to, and even while they're in this sort of "together," when was the last time he truly asked her how she was?

"H-Hijikata…san?" She's still shivering and he tries to pull her closer. Her face is warm against his chest but the rest of her body is cold and it's so unlike her.

"You're freezing." He curses in his mind as he sits and draws her down with him, trying to fit all of her in his lap while rubbing her shoulders at the same time. "And—"

And what?

A list of apologies are in his mind, but when he looks at her, he can't bring himself to say them. She carries the same regret, the same sadness.

They would be here forever apologising and trying to move on.

Her hands clutch the fabric of his sleeves. "I hadn't seen him in years…"

So many things had changed. The ochimizu fucked you up, in so many ways, and it fucked up relationships. He both hates and clings on to this borrowed power that's eating up his life.

But it's unforgivable that it takes a father away from his child. Chizuru didn't even speak much about her worries for Koudou. She's been nearly as busy as Hijikata, with the affairs of the Shinsengumi. But every time someone dies, you're reminded. You're reminded that lives fall away too easily, and the ones left behind can only deal with it.

This is a first for her—dealing with the death of someone this close. She's cried for others, but this is the first time she's sounded this drained and _broken_.

Broken is not a word he associates with her.

And something rends at his heart as he presses her closer. He's made her cry enough times. He has to free her from that cycle.

"Chizuru." A gentle tap on the side of her neck. She doesn't stir.

So he cranes his neck lower to brush his lips over the same area.

He doesn't except her to tighten her hands in his yukuta and yank him down for a kiss that leaves him shocked. It's a kiss that tastes of salty sadness and bitter grief, but at the same time…

It says that she wants him.

It says that she doesn't want to lose him as well.

It's an echo of his feelings and so he cups her face to hold to her even as he noisily breathes through his nose. This is easier than a conversation of "I'm sorry" and "I wish I was there sooner."

But it scares him, just how much she cares about him. She cares about him the way all his captains did. She cares about him the way Kondou did. And she cares about him on a different level from all of them.

He doesn't know if he matches up to that. Certainly she's on his mind more often than she used to be, and he's less likely to dismiss her when she wants to help. He trusts her. He worries about her health. And yes, they do this sleeping thing every once in a while.

Then just what are they, to each other?

Hijikata is loathe to ask this, and he doubts Chizuru wants to answer, because right now, she's wrapping her arms around him and her toes are curling against his thigh. She nestles closer, and if he wants, he can probably count her eyelashes when she tucks her chin into his shoulder.

So he makes up his mind—to do what she did for him like that first time.

"Do you want me to stay?" he has to ask, to be sure.

Her hands slide against his ribs; she nods. "Hai." Softly, but clearly.

That's all it takes before he's pulling at her yukata. It's so loose he doesn't even really need to undo anything; it all simply slides off, and he casts her clothes aside. She's not exactly curvaceous. There isn't much of her at all compared to some women he's slept with. But she fits in his arms, against his legs, and her height is perfect for her head to lay on his shoulder. Like she's made to stay.

It occurs to Hijikata that he wouldn't mind her staying, forever.

But she can't.

This pain he keeps putting her through—it's not good for her. And seeing how he's the last…his death…

…but how can he tell her this now?

He can't.

_I'll make it up to you, right now. Right here._

So he lays her down, and he runs his hands over her. Over and over until his warmth is hers and the tears are dried, and the sounds are no longer of sadness, but a different distress. Until the tension of worry leaves and is replaced by the anxiety of expectation. By now, he definitely knows what she likes. She likes his fingers in her hair, his thumbs running over her stomach in slow lines and circles and other patterns. She likes his kisses, especially the feather-light ones. And he knows that gently dragging his finger down the inside of her wrist makes her shudder and look at him with such eager eyes that he would pick up his pace—

But tonight, she deserves more than she usually does. When he parts her thighs, he finally sheds his own clothes so that they can lie side by side while his fingers memorise her once again. If this is really going to be where they part…he has to make it count.

Chizuru's hands run down his sides to settle on his hips; when he looks at them, all he can see is how pale she is compared to him.

He can't remember if he's ever called her fragile, but even now he doesn't think of her as such. Fragility wouldn't be asking him if he's all right, still trying to smile.

This is just tiredness, the weariness of a life being broken by pain and grief.

"Chizuru…" he tries to begin, but she shakes her head.

No explanations needed, then.

Hijikata kisses the back of her hand, before he touches her again. Until her fingers lock to him, all parts of her attuned to what he is doing and until she closes her eyes and says his name over and over. Until her eyes clear, and she's reaching for him.

She doesn't have to say it; the look in her eyes, washed in sadness and fatigue, still says she wants him. She wants him again, she wants him now, and she wants to stay by his side. Her kiss says it all and more, of an eagerness and want for him that he knows she doesn't have for anyone else right now.

_I can't do that to you anymore._

His throat is tight even has as the rest of him is slowly being overcome by other feelings as they grapple and she wrests with him a little until she sits on top of him, hair falling all about them, and he reaches out to pull her closer.

_I can't see you cry like that ever again._

_You don't deserve that._

When pleasure peaks and his nose is buried to her hair and he's gasping, for one moment, he's fully enveloped in her, her essence, her everything, and to think about having none of that—

Could he bear that? Not hearing her voice chiding him to rest, seeing her in the corner of his eye, or feeling her hand reaching toward him…

Chizuru traces his chin now, hands loose and the rest of her no longer so strained with worry. He pushes his own fingers through her hair, and watches, bit by bit, as she relaxes, her body fit against his and her head on his chest. No longer is she cold; her warmth is like his, maybe even warmer.

So, back to question…yes, he could. If that meant she'd live. If that meant she'd smile. Even if this broke her heart, she'd live and find a better person than he'll ever be. Because really, whatever has he offered that wasn't hardship and death? He'd let himself be comforted by her, but doesn't even know how much of a comfort he really is. Men like him…they're not suited to this life.

His life is one meant to die. It's meant as an example to the world, to others.

But it'd be nice, if it belonged to her.

Hijikata swallows his emotions as she sleeps, and he's afraid the pulse of his heart, the agitation there…it would wake him up. That she would see his thoughts…

No, he can't let himself be convinced. If he did, it'd hurt more than telling her to leave.

_This is right._

_This is fine._

_This is for the better._

Yet he can't put distance between them even now, her toes and legs tangled to his knees, her arms around him, and her lips a perfect warmth against his throat.

He shudders, and wills the sick feeling away. They still had some time. He can still think about this. Maybe a better outcome will turn up and they don't…have to part. But even he knows that's just putting off the inevitable. Right now, though, all he wants to do is hold her, as if this would keep her safe and him alive. He apologises now, for his leaving.

_I don't even know if I can say that out loud._

Because he'll literally be pulling them apart. Like if a thread has joined them together, it will be snapped and left dangling until he winds it around his hands, until he sinks the feeling so far that he forgets what this is like, to have someone by his side this intimately.

It's for her. It's all for her. She has to live.

Even so, he doesn't fall asleep until the sun begins to rise, disquiet still knocking at his thoughts.

**.tbc.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Hijikata.
> 
> …So some people maybe wondering; when is Chizuru's POV of the smut going to happen. Not for a while. But I promise it'll be worth the wait :D
> 
> That being said, please put up with Hijikata being in denial for a while longer, and keep your fingers crossed for Chizuru. No smut for a while, but in its place…angst, angst and more angst…


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little short; mostly because this time period is pretty well-covered by Chizuru's narratives in the games. So just think of it as a small glimpse into her thoughts.

**IV.**

_September, 1868_

Some days, she feels very close to Hijikata. If she weren't still dressed as a boy and if he weren't in uniform…when they walked, she nearly reaches for his hand. Yet other times, he feels years away from her; too tall, too broad-shouldered, too stern.

Today is one of those days when he walks in front of her, and she follows him a few steps behind. They make no conversation, and occasionally, when he turns his head, she can make out the stiffness in his jawline that matches his fists.

Hijikata is the last rasetsu left.

The fact that Saitou is dead…she finds it so hard to swallow. She stopped questioning her tears; they were going to happen whether she liked it or not. She would mourn. She would remember.

It still is a shock.

Saitou is the sort of person who is "there." Maybe not always in the flesh, but in spirit. He lingered. You turned and oh—there he is, in the corner of your eye. She still remembers the time he caught her outside accidentally eavesdropping on Souji. Like a ghost, or…well, something that's part of nature. But he's always been fair to her. Accommodating, even. In his own way, not in words but in the way he looked at her, or his actions…he cared just as much as anyone else did about her.

It didn't seem fair, how they died. Kondou, beheaded. Okita, from a combination of illness and his life running out. Heisuke and Sannan, also using up their life. Saitou, likely the same way.

Lives cut short, that's what they are.

Cruelly.

Hijikata stopped so abruptly that she nearly runs into him. She apologises, but he doesn't even seem to hear her. He's staring out the ocean, where the sun's rays reflect blindingly off the water.

It seems strange how only a day ago, she had fainted and he'd carried her, and…they had seemed closer. Is this how relationships went, a closeness and then a distance, and it goes back and forth unless one of them said something?

Chizuru chews on the inside of her mouth as she watches Hijikata lost in thought, her own mind still jumbled. The things she knows about him, and the things he knows…they weren't just acquaintances. She's not even in his custody anymore. But they're not…not lovers. Right? Lovers would be holding hands and kissing, because that's romantic. They're standing next to each other, yes—but a person could fit between them.

It's on the tip of her tongue to ask him directly.

Yet she can't. Because what if, this is all simply for comfort, for some sort of support in grief and it would be gone whenever the fighting's done with. What if the answer she received is basically "we felt sorry for each other, and we're simply—"

Simply what? She can't even find a word that defines _them_.

"Are you cold?"

Startled, she realises she has been unconsciously rubbing one of her arms in agitation. "Oh, no." She pushes a half-smile on her face. "A bug bite, I think."

_It's September, Chizuru. What bugs would be out?_ Her own mind is against her; she's a bad liar and she knows it, but Hijikata doesn't say anything to that. He…he must be more than a little distracted.

So she takes a breath, and tries to break this silence. "The sunsets in the autumn are beautiful."

"Mhm."

"I don't remember the last time I took a moment to watch one."

Silence.

This is going wonderfully, isn't it. She shifts on her feet and is ready to give up when Hijikata finally replies.

"Neither do I. Too busy." He runs his hand through his bangs. "When the last time I did something not related to all…this life."

A commander's life. A samurai's life. When she turns her head, she sees a shopkeeper locking up his wares, a woman tugging a little child along, boys running down the streets, a fisherman…

Such normal, peaceful lives they had. Unless they had debt or some other issues, they didn't have to worry about waking up and wondering if it would be their last day. They didn't have to worry about others except themselves and their families. They didn't have to commandeer and think about whether or not they'd be betrayed.

She knows that she could've had that sort of life. If she hadn't ever left Edo to look for her father, but simply lived in ignorance. She would've missed her father, but it…it would've been very different.

"Maybe someday, you can have that life."

"Heh. I doubt it." Hijikata crosses his arms. "I'm not going to go quietly."

_But I don't want you to go out too quickly._

"Who said anything about quickly?"

Too late, she realises she said that aloud; he's now looking at her.

"I-I meant…" she curls her fingers and looks down. "It's all right have an honourable death, but I don't want to see that happen anytime soon."

"Didn't you once say I don't die easily, or something like that?"

"Yes…" To Saitou, even.

"I'm making good on that talent, aren't I?"

_After Kazama hurt you, and you took forever to heal, and then you tried to rush out onto the front lines…you keep using your rasetsu powers…_

She lifts her head to let him see the unspoken distress in her face. "Hijikata-san…"

_Can't you see you're the only one left?_

_Can't you tell what you mean to me?_

He holds her gaze for a while before he suddenly reaches out his hand, brushing the side of her face. The contact is unexpected, but she's gotten so accustomed to his touch these past few months; she doesn't jump or flinch.

"All these years, you've been with us. You've seen some of the best and worst days. I'm pretty sure I could've left you in Edo, but you didn't even consider staying in your old home. And whenever I ask why you stayed, you say it's because you want to be by my side."

"Yes." She did want that more than, more than anything.

"You're very stubborn."

For an instant, she wonders if she's seen as a clingy woman, but this thought is dismissed very quickly because he doesn't look annoyed. "I'm an Edo girl."

"Yes, you are."

It makes her throat close and her heart flutter, when he drops the steely look and his eyes are as warm as the sun on their faces. It's a look she doesn't see often enough, but every time…every time he looks at her like that, she wonders what it'd be like if he let his guard down for the rest of his days.

"Chizuru?"

She's getting ahead of herself, isn't she. Blinking a little, she hopes her face isn't red as she tries to say something. "You're stubborn, too. It must be an Edo trait."

"No, I just can't let things go. Why else am I here instead of helping with my family's business." The laughter doesn't seem fake, but even so, it's a little self-deprecating. "I've been really bad about writing back to them, too. Damn."

If only they had all the time in the world to exchange stories and explain family history. If only they weren't in this war, and then they'd be more than just sleeping with each other.

But she's also seen how Hijikata leads, how he does things for his men. How he holds it all together, plans, fights…she can't really picture him leading the quiet life and being happy with it.

And maybe that's why there's not really room for him to consider anything else when it comes to her. For a man to marry and then die in battle, it's the wife who has to bear the burden of that.

Still…

Her heart tightens.

She wants more than what they had now. Yes, she likes this, but is it selfish to think about a future where he's not going to die too soon?

He deserves better.

Maybe her impulses are going about this all wrong, but she suddenly feels the need to close the distance between them and slip her arms around his torso. It's not often she's the first to react; he jerks out of surprise, but he doesn't move away.

"Hey, are you hugging me for my sake or your own sake?" An arm lies across her shoulders, now, squeezing a little.

"Both."

He's always so solid like this. Unyielding. The only time that she's hugged him when he wasn't like this was after Okita's death.

There are no words she can say or even think, to describe how much she loves him. How she's loved him for a long time now, but she hadn't fully understood it or even tried to grasp it. Love—it fell in her path, not really dramatically or passionately, but it had quietly curled its way in until she couldn't dismiss it.

She almost wishes that she were more powerful, stronger, even able to handle fighting. Maybe he wouldn't have drunk the ochimizu. Maybe he'd still be human.

Then again, it's not like not fighting makes her…well, less. Holding him like this, his hand warm on her arm, she feels like his equal.

"I still think you deserve better than this life."

She shakes her head. "It's not about deserving. It's about…"

Love.

She still can't say it.

"I want to be here."

Something like a tremor passed through Hijikata's frame, one that sets off just the faintest of warning signals in her head, but she doesn't pay them attention. Not even her chin is tilted up and they're sharing a kiss that warms her down to her toes.

She's going to stay with him to the end. She has to, even if it hurts and she has to watch him die.

And yet, she still holds out the hope it wouldn't have to end in tragedy.

When they kiss like this, it's easy enough to imagine it, that their future wasn't a bloodstained terrible one or the past wasn't also a trail of death. Just them, together. It's a dream. A good dream. She'll cherish it, the sun turning everything golden and red and just a hint of a breeze carrying the saltiness from the sea and the taste of Hijikata that remains even as they resume walking.

Chizuru never doubt that he cares. It's…just his methods of showing it sometimes. But this is more than acceptable, a moment of closeness.

She simply wishes those moments lasted longer.

**.tbc.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fff I was not about to rewrite Hijikata telling Chizuru to stay behind. It would break my own heart too much. Stay tuned for Hijiangst. 
> 
> Also, after part 5 is posted, there's going to be a 2-3 week gap until the next update because I need to upload a couple other fanfics.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hijikata angsting. Like, a lot of it. Also him continuously rationalising things that don't need to be rationalised until you want to throw your hands up, knock him unconscious and send him in a box back to Chizuru for her to yell at him. Gosh. (I still love you, Hijikata, but you seriously make your own life difficult)

**V.**

_October, 1868_

Funny how the living can haunt you more than the dead.

Ezo is dismally cold for October and Hijikata hunches down in his jacket, pulling up the collar as high at it would go. The fabric smells of blood and gunpowder, but so does the rest of him. Scents of death and warfare that don't leave even when he bathes. He's sure he can taste some it too, salty and bitter, and even the terror radiating from some of the men that he fights with is lingering on his tongue.

And yet, in the back of his throat…or is it in his mouth, he thinks, there is a scent of soap and flowers that permeates everything and keep him from feeling disgusted. Maybe there's even the taste of tea, the stuff that wasn't the disgusting foreign crap they've been drinking these days.

She haunts him.

It's only been three weeks.

He tells himself it's because they've been together for so long, and he has to grow used to it. A month and he'll…he'll remember what it's like to not have her around.

The crack of a gun makes him twitch, but he doesn't jump. See, that's something he's gotten used to. The fact that Chizuru isn't here, after being with him for four years…that's because of such a long period of time. That's all.

 _This is no place for her,_ he thinks, as he watches men fall around him and there's a call for him and others to step up for their turn. _I'd have to leave her behind at the fortress_.

Yet, he can't forget her face when he told her to stay behind, how the smile fell away, crumbled, like he had torn it. How her hands shook and how white she went.

He had betrayed her, in the kindest way possible, but still betrayal. This isn't some case of a clingy spouse-to-be. This isn't him needed to be away. This is for her. He's seen her grow, quietly so, but her eyes weren't too big for her face anymore, and she seems to fit herself against him in a way that takes up space.

Or rather, fills a space.

And now that's empty again.

Hijikata cuts through two men and winces as a bullet grazes his shoulder, stinging hotly for minutes. He resists the urge to touch it; it'll fade eventually. He can't turn rasetsu any time soon, not when his men watch him. At least today is cloudy and there isn't a heavy, aching pain bearing down on everything.

It still hurts less than how he feels about leaving Chizuru behind.

He just. Can't get her face out his mind, how she didn't even run after him. She had cried, and he had been the one to make her cry.

…better then as opposed to her crying when he died.

An explosion knocks him off his feet; someone knees him in the side and he catches himself on one hand before hauling both of them up, only to find the other sliding down, dead and missing one leg.

He lays the man down and scrubs his sleeve over his face. Ears ringing, shoulder still sore, he stands. Men, scattered, some injured, some dead. Others running and doing their best even though they're ragged and weary.

_Chizuru, you don't need to see this._

This is all he's ever been able to offer.

She deserved so much better.

Later, as he helps one of his men to the infirmary they've set up, he catches sight of himself as they pass a window. Is that truly his face, the angles of face sharp, his brows seemingly knit permanently in a frown, jawline set and lips pressed tight? There's blood behind his ear but he doesn't remember getting shot there…

Oh, wait, that's someone else's. He fights the rush of hot, tingly need that grips his head, turning away. There's so much _blood_. Rasetsu, for all their speed and other abilities, were really unsuited for war. He's glad there is no more rasetsu, and no way of making anymore. Unless someone tried to bring more ochimizu over, but he doubts it. It's not like the bakufu remembers what they wanted it for, anyway. Hijikata is just another fighter in this war, to be used and once his purpose was served, would be tossed aside.

It's almost strange, how he's all right with that. He's not expecting medals or renown. He's not expecting to live through this war; he could die today with a well-aimed bullet or stab to his heart or head. Or his life would run out and he'd disappear into ash.

When has it ever been about him? He just…he just doesn't want to see the work Kondou has done go to waste. The Shinsengumi….their flag, he still carries. He'll carry it until he can't.

Except now he'll have to repair the flag himself. He glazes at his shoulder, at the new holes in his clothes that he'll either ignore or attempt to fix. He knows if he looks at one of his sleeves, he'll see Chizuru's handiwork, neat and tight and holding. Better than anything he'll ever do.

Just how many ways can a person haunt him?

Or rather, how many ways can you miss them?

Even as he steps back into his room near midnight, thoughts of papers to sign and shit to plan and just life to deal with, he wants to put his head down on his desk, for a few minutes at least.

Just a few minutes to revisit a time when he still wrote haiku, when Souji wasn't sick, when Kondou was there, when Heisuke and Saitou weren't rasetsu, when Shinpachi and Sano were still around…when Chizuru was still patrolling with them, looking for their father.

It was better then.

All too soon, he has to raise his head and light a lamp. He'll have things to discuss in the morning.

 _Things_.

But if he's lucky, he'll revisit the old days in his dreams, should he have time to sleep tonight.

_November, 1868_

Hijikata looks in frustration at his brush; this one, he's only used for a week, and it's already falling apart. He almost flings it, but he has never gotten into the habit of throwing things and he's not about to start.

_She'd know what brush I prefer._

_…_ _again?_

He's pretty sure he thinks of her at least once day, if not more. Maybe that's a thing people marked for death did—thought about those still alive and would continue to live.

That's not to say he does think about those who've passed on. Aizu has surrendered; no doubt, if Saitou had lived on, he'd still remain with them. Heisuke…he actually thinks, he wouldn't have minded Heisuke goofing off every once in a while; there's very little laughter these days, or even anything to really smile about. As for Sannan, he wouldn't have minded some advice, because these days, he's the assistant army minister—he _is_ the advice. He wouldn't mind Souji making a nuisance of himself, and he certainly wouldn't Shinpachi and Sano sneaking off for drinks and coming back drunk so he could yell at them. Half-heartedly. He actually does very little yelling these days.

And then there's Kondou, who he'd give a lot to see. A lot. Some days, he looks at the men he leads and wishes Kondou could see how far they've come. They haven't changed their beliefs, they're still fighting for what they believed in…and he's going to die a samurai.

He's sure Kondou would be proud.

That's not what bothers him.

What bothers him is how every day is the same. How he talks to the same people. How he gives out the same orders. There's little to no variation. Who knew a war could become mundane, especially when you're stuck inside? A little voice tells him he could talk to people, yes. He could go talk to Enomoto or Ootori about things other than war. There's the ambassadors, too. He could also walk around, talk to Shimada, his men…

So dutiful.

Thoughts mire him until he realises he dribbled ink everywhere. He'd been hoping to get through it, faulty brush or no, but now it's impossible to salvage.

Not to mention…the sun seems to be worse here. He hates going out, hates even just opening his curtains. Sunlight hits him, and seems to twist his insides worse than bloodlust at times. It makes him dizzy, ill, tired…on and on. Makes him feel twice his age, which is ironic because he's not even going to live that long.

It's just as well he's fighting so that he's not going to die a wasted, short life.

Neither is he going to go out like Souji did, alone, the last one. His men, they'll be at his side…

And yet, there still something missing.

Hijikata abandons all pretence of writing as he stand up, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms. When was the last time someone knew some of his deeper thoughts that went beyond war and treaties and meetings? He glances down at the mug of tea gone cold, tea that he hates but still drinks because it's better than nothing.

He'd give a lot for Japanese tea, made personally by Chizuru. Of all the things she did, honestly…tea was one of the best things. Everyone joked about him and his lack of ability to cook and even make tea, but at least he's never burned something down. And he could…chop vegetables. Gut a fish. Making onigiri is beyond him, but he knows how break up seaweed bits for that. Food these days…even that wasn't the same anymore. He eats, drinks, and breathes responsibility. Quite literally. That's the ways of sacrificing and denying yourself. But just because he's good at it, though, doesn't mean he misses things any less.

He glances over back at his desk, and wonders, for one moment, what if he just left all of this. Literally, leave under a disguise and live a life that didn't require the termination of his life.

The world isn't waiting on them anymore. It's a losing battle and he's slowing down the descent of it, but when he thinks about all the people that depend on him, those that would die for him…

He can't.

He can't leave this, no matter how much she haunts him, a small figure standing alone, watching him leave as he turned his back on her.

_December, 1868_

Well, at least he doesn't hit his head when he falls, his heart pounding and his senses suddenly lit on fire. As he bites down on his lip and then the back of his hand, the blood doesn't taste good. Nothing rich to it, nothing like the savour her blood holds. Blood in itself is thick, heavy, and dark-brown red than it is bright red, especially when it pools down her neck—

Hijikata chokes, on his horrifying thoughts as well on his pain. Chizuru gave him blood for…months. Close to a year. Not often, but he had forgotten what it's like to deal with it without help. How he can't even stand up straight. How his vision blurs and footsteps cause his heart to race more than it is already beating. How the pain renders him almost immobile and he'd almost prefer his head to be cut off as opposed to this.

In exchange for power, his life is now this. So he ought to bear it. Her blood…her body. Those didn't belong to him. Even if she offered them of her own free will, him continuously taking it…

That wasn't right.

Yet, is this right? Hunched over and struggling for air, and attempting to wrest back control of his mind? Was he made to suffer? Was this punshingment for no longer being human?

He stops clenching his teeth long enough to drag himself upright, support himself on something even as his knees buckle and he presses his forehead against the side of his table. He claws at his arms. It's something, anything to distract for short bursts at a time as he tries to keep his voice down.

Minutes became a half hour, an hour…until he's on the ground and counting his inhales and exhales between spasms of pain. He pictures in his head all the men under his command and recites their names, starting over each time he forgets. The palms of his hands are bloody, from his fingernails digging. He won't hold onto anything else, lest he leave permanent marks on the furniture that would raise question. At least on his body, those would all heal quickly.

The night wears on, and his thoughts at last end up on her.

Her concern whenever he was hurt or even just worried.

Her hands, which could hold him up the times he did refuse blood from her, and how she said nothing even when he gripped her too tightly.

Her voice, calling for him, sometimes soft, sometimes louder, and how she persuaded him to take her blood.

And everything else about her, like the way he could meld his hands to her shoulders and they fit. The shape of her lips. The blush on her face. Her warmth. Her support.

Things that he gave up, because it's for the better.

However, just because it's better doesn't exactly make him feel better.

The bloodlust finally passes; he rests his head on the side of the divan, too exhausted to pull himself up. The after effects are hardly any better; his head hurts and it feels like someone has stepped on his ribcage a few time. The hot, suffocating feeling is replaced by a numbing cold that makes him feel every ache more vividly than ever.

Hijikata shivers, closing his eyes as he returns to counting his breaths. Until he finds the strength to pull himself up again. Until…until he can once again continue on this road. The further you go up, the lonelier it gets. He's not even the most sociable of persons, but a confidante…that would be nice to have again, wouldn't it.

He remembers the time after Souji's death, and how…she had been there. Through life, death, woes…all of it.

_Why, Chizuru._

_Why, for me?_

He steadies his hand, and lights the lamp.

_I could send a letter…_

But even that sounds like a half-hearted attempt of an apology, or brushing away the fact he told her to stay behind.

She probably has grown to hate him for this. Plenty of people have resented him; it's nothing new, so what's one more person? He's given men lesser reasons to dislike him, and this time, he cut his ties with someone.

Completely.

The words dance before his eyes; he's not concentrating at all. He can't. For all his rationalising, he…misses her, to the point his chest hurts and he has to stare at the flame of his candle until it isn't blurry.

_I can only offer this life. It shouldn't be the life you pursue. You belong to the future, and I to the past._

_So let me go._

_…_ _**I** _ _should let you go._

Nice of his thoughts to betray him like this.

He knows he can't. He'll probably end up thinking about her when he's lying in a battlefield, waiting for his life to end. He'll imagine her brushing his bangs out of his face, his head in her lap, and how her tears would fall.

The ending he doesn't want.

The ending he fears.

But there is no chance for a different future. Not as long as he fights.

**.tbc.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chizuru POV next! And…the appearance of Kazama...
> 
> However, the next update i'm going to put at either on July 6th or July 13th; I need to update some other stuff and also writing at least chapter 6--8 before I start posting again. I'd update sooner, but I have to be realistic about my writing time/schedule and I have stuff coming up in July (family, RL, otakon) that is going to mess up things a little bit. Okay well Otakon is for fun but that will be a weekend I can't do stuff XD
> 
> ANYWAY I hope you guys have been enjoying this fic so far. It was more than I had planned but I really love this story and I will definitely finish it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There always remains the question of which canon I'm following and just how "canon" it should be. I don't want to copy game/anime dialogue word for word; but…I wanted to keep the same tone. And there are definitely some things from the game dialogue I wanted to keep.
> 
> This part was written in short bursts at a time and I keep rereading it to make sure it all fit together as a chapter. Sort of. But at the very least, Hijikata does get chewed out a bit by Chizuru. He had it coming. A long time in coming.

 

**.**

**VI.**

_November, 1868_

It was only the first month that was difficult.

Maybe it's a good thing she ran into Matsumoto-sensei after those weeks of waking up nauseated and tired, along with cravings for foods she didn't think she liked. She had assumed it was grief, her emotions turning everything upside-down, but the symptoms persisted and then she had a feeling. She wasn't the daughter of a doctor for nothing, and so confirmation didn't really come as a surprise.

Conceived in September, and that meant…a child in the summer. June. Matsumoto-sensei had asked if she wanted to go elsewhere, maybe back home. He was genuinely concerned and caring and yet…

Chizuru refused.

When Ootori-san sent for her, she wanted to be ready. Waiting. The instant there was word, she would go. It wouldn't matter what condition she was in; she would make it.

That's what she is set on doing, anyway.

She often lies awake at night, staring up at the ceiling. When it rained, she closed her eyes and let the sound fill her ears, to block out the thoughts. Yet she still wakes up early, makes tea, and after menial things like cleaning, she would think. When she took her walks, she could pretend she was surround by the men she once knew, maybe Nagakura and Harada's divisions running into each other and them exchanging conversations. Or Heisuke walking next to her, trying to make her laugh. Even next to Saitou, who didn't say much, but there was always a halting in his steps every time they passed a sword shop, or with Okita, despite the teasing. Even after all this time, she could still remember their pace, and she could match hers to theirs.

She also wrote a little. Something about greatness and splendour, even it all seemed so commonplace when she puts it down as how she remembers it, but she has to remember. With how the war is going and how the Shinsengumi is still viewed…she wants to make sure.

And she wanted to have something for Hijikata, once she saw him again. It didn't seem to feel right, going empty-handed and offering nothing but herself. He left her behind…there's something she has to prove about herself.

Resolutions, however, tend to flee in the face of loneliness. She pushes her face in her pillow, shoulders shuddering and heart strained and pounding until it eventually dissipates and she dries her tears. Grief is nothing new to her, and Hijikata isn't even dead. But the dreams are harder to deal with. She dreams of walking next to him, of peeking into his room and handing him tea. Of him shoving her behind him as he dealt with enemies, and of how he could kiss her and make her feel nothing else except him in that moment.

There were things he'd been very good at.

He had been good to her.

And her? She gets the feeling she hadn't been enough. There was worry and concern when he told her to stay, but an old strictness that froze her in her steps and prevented her from running to him. He's never asked her to stay by his side, no matter how many times she's said she would. He doesn't miss her as much as she misses him, no doubt. If she imagines his perpetual frown, the stiff jaw and wrinkled brow, it's easy to believe that. It's when she dreams about the times he's smiled so warmly at her, or cupped her face in his hands and stroked her hair, that she can't believe it.

They had something.

That something is probably gone now. It's November, and there has been nothing yet. So she carefully presses her hands to her abdomen, feeling what is there, what she and Hijikata has created, and wonders what he'd think. Dismay? Shock? Horror? Happiness?

At the very least, she hopes he is doing all right. He's still a rasetsu, so there was that problem. No doubt he sleeps too little, eats too little, and runs himself to the ground. No more people to yell at him about his health, though she's sure that Shimada and Ootori do their share of hinting to him. If she thinks about it, she did…very little. Just offer him tea, an ear, maybe some of herself…

So little to represent her love.

And what if this child is a burden? War is no place for a child. Then again, war is no place for her, either. Yet it doesn't mean she's fighting her own war, despite being on the losing side. Ootori made a promise to her, and she knows he'd keep it.

No matter what Hijikata thought of her or of this child, at least she knows what she's clear on.

So she'll continue to replay and imagine scenarios in her head, for when they met again. It at least keeps her from doubting herself too much.

_December, 1868_

December brought snow and relief in her symptoms. At most, her energy levels are lower, but she stopped waking up with the need to throw up.

Loneliness doesn't abate with time, she has found. Her days feel like the days she had first spent in the Shinsengumi—isolation, in meditation, in pondering. After all, she's a lone woman in the early stages of pregnancy, and there are rumours among some people. They're too polite to say anything to her, because she wasn't one of them, but she's seen some of the glances.

Well, let them think what they want. At the most, all she could say that the child's father is away, but she'll be going to see him.

Once a week, she visits the graves in Sendai. Matsumoto-sensei had helped in this department, though he did insist she not tire herself out. This is like a pilgrim's journey, she decides. It's for remembrance. She's accumulated a fair amount of writing, and it wouldn't seem fair if she didn't visit and talk to them everyday.

However, the presence of Kazama Chikage is unexpected. The last time she saw him was so long ago at the Battle of Toba-Fushimi, and she had heard what happened at the castle. He stands at the graves, as if he knew she'd be here.

She hasn't carried her sword in a while, but even so, her hand strays to her side before she drops it.

"Kazama…san?" That's her greeting.

"Yukimura Chizuru." His gaze travels downwards. "I hardly have to ask whose child that you are carrying."

She hears the scorn, sees the one-sided curl of his mouth, and she straightens her back. "And?"

"I fail to see the logic behind your actions of being intimate with him, a human." His eyes slide half-shut before they draw open again. "And then after all that, he abandons you?"

"This isn't abandonment." She presses her hands over her abdomen, ready to run even though she knows she won't get very far. "He's thinking about me."

"Is he? Has he left anyone behind to watch over you? One of his captains, maybe?"

"Hijikata-san…has no more captains." Even as she says this, it hurts. Gone or dead, Hijikata is left all on his own. "He couldn't spare anyone. And I'm all right for now."

Kazama crosses his arms. "Why do you still cling to a dream of that monster who walks upon a road of grief and lost honour?"

"Because it's not a dream to me."

"You seem confident that you'll see him again."

"Yes."

"In your condition?"

She would straighten her back even more, if not for the strain. "Kazama-san, you've always reminded me that I'm an oni. But when it comes time, you don't give me any credit to what that personally means about me, as an oni."

Sen once said she'd sensed power from Chizuru, power she herself does not know and isn't sure if she wants to know, but surely…surely it plays a factor to all of this. Yet as Kazama looks at her in disgust, she realises that maybe something else has changed too—she has lost the patience for looks like that.

"I'm going to go see him," she says, voice even and controlled.

_And nothing is going to stop me._

_Not even you._

She fists her hands by her sides, head tilted to look up at him. He could easily take her down. Steal her away. Or do worse. Ill thoughts rise to the surface, which she pushes away.

"I'm going to see him," she repeats, for Kazama's apparently lack of hearing, and also for herself. "Once I receive word."

_What are you doing to do about that?_

Kazama sighed. "Foolish."

"I didn't ask for your opinion." She says this without hesitation. Only a month ago she wouldn't have dared. Maybe yelling at Kazama is good practice.

"Heh." Kazama's laugh is more like a sharp breath of air he's forced out. "What if I made you a better offer?"

"A…what?"

"You have no obligations to him. He obviously does not want you there, and undoubtedly because he has no time to look after a woman too stubborn to say goodbye. But—" He steps a little closer. "I could take you in."

What does she address first, the fact he called her stubborn, or the fact this is the closest Kazama will come to asking nicely if she wants to join him?

"I could claim the child as mine," he continues, "no one would have to know. Even as a half-oni, your blood running in the child's veins would still be a respected thing. Maybe we should be thankful Hijikata and you have the same hair."

She didn't even have to think about this. "Thank you, but I'm all right with where I am right now."

"What if he never calls for you? Or what if he rejects you and sends you back?"

"Does it matter? I know where I stand. I…I don't know where he stands, but I intend to find out." If Hijikata really doesn't want her, that's all right.

She would say her words and then depart.

"The Shinsengumi…" her voice wavers, but only a little. "They mean more to me than the fact I'm an oni." Despite how she ended up in their midst, they had taken care of her, and she had did the same, to the best of her abilities. They did more than anyone else, including her own kin, had done.

"I can't leave with you, Kazama-san." Chizuru shakes her head, and waits.

Kazama looks at her, then at the graves, and he makes a sound in his throat. "Very well. Traveling with you would be cumbersome anyway."

As he walks past her, she realises he means to leave. "Wait."

"What is it?"

"You and Hijikata-san…you're going to fight again, aren't you?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Because demons and their pride…and for the time that I have known you, you keep your promises." He'd keep his vows, the blood oaths, everything. "Because you have to settle something with him."

For a long, long moment, Kazama doesn't reply. Snow starts to fall and a wind picks up; she shivers, but continues to stand there.

"Even if he does accept you…yes, I must fight. I may die, or he may die…or the both of us will. Are you all right with that?"

For an instant, she wonders if he means _If you come with me, I won't fight him_.

But she sees the look in his eyes, and knows that this is no longer just about her. Kazama would go after Hijikata, regardless of her choices.

"No, I'm not all right with that." How could she be? She swallows the lump in her throat. "But I can't stop either of you. I can't even make you stay. All I can do is hope."

She doesn't wait for Kazama to reply. "Please excuse me." A slight bow, and then she's hurrying back down the path. Strangely enough, her legs don't feel weak. There's fear and anxiety, yes, but she realises she's a little angry, too. Angry that Kazama showed up today, that he tried again. Yes, he did ask, but he was still no better at persuading her than he had been a year ago.

Stupid oni. _Stupid_. She is back in her temporary home now, and she washes her face, pausing to look at her features. She decides she can't imagine herself with white hair and golden eyes and horns. It just didn't look right. But managing to hold a conversation with Kazama…without it ending terribly or with him carrying her off…

That's a personal victory.

She allows herself a small smile.

_January, 1869_

The letter arrived.

Chizuru left the very next day.

The journey wasn't long; it was shorter than the trip to Edo, and she wasn't seasick. The rocking of the ship, she found comforting, actually. Swaying and swaying, like a cradle. She hums to her unborn child, running her hands over her abdomen in slow circles. She writes, but more often she sleeps, and dreams up the words she has prepared to tell Hijikata.

At Ezo, she draws some glances, but not many. She meets Ootori, and if not for how his eyes had widened, he hid his surprise quite well. There's no mistaking that she's with child at this point; she knows. There is no point in hiding it, and certainly no point in wearing male clothing. She almost wishes for hakama, though, because it's cold and there's a draft curling around her legs.

Ootori makes small talk, and catches her up on the war and everything else that she's missed. She listens almost hungrily, and she's happy to hear that Shimada is still alive, as are some other names she recognises, and that Hijikata is mostly doing well.

Except that he doesn't come out of his room all that often, Ootori said.

She bites her lip.

When she's finally left alone, she puts down her belongings, and finds Hijikata's door (Ootori gave clear directions), and stands there for a long while until she finally knocks.

"I'm busy. Come back in the evening in two hours."

"Hiji…Hijikata-san." Her voice trembles and she wonders if the rest of her is shaking too. Now that she's here, why is she so uncertain?

Silence. She tries again, louder. "Hijikata-san."

There's the sound of wood scraping, something falling. "Chizuru?" Footsteps.

"Don't open the door yet." She raises her voice. "Not yet," she repeats in a softer tone, "please."

The footsteps stop; she's afraid he'd open the door, but he doesn't. "So I'm not imagining your voice. Why are you here?"

Clipped. So much for a greeting. At least it wasn't exactly cold. It was…bewildered, like he couldn't believe she is here.

"Ootori-san sent for me. He gave me orders." She holds the thin folded paper in her hands. "And so I'm here."

"I don't approve of those orders. I told you to stay."

"You didn't even look at them yet."

"Well, you told me not to open the door."

Ah, that's true. She blushes and clears her throat, and wishes she had asked for water before coming here. "Even if I did offer them, you would give them back and tell me to leave, wouldn't you?"

"If you know me so well, then why did you come?"

"Because I needed to see you. And talk." _Please don't say anything about the door._

Thankfully, Hijikata doesn't. The footsteps draw closer, until she can make out a shadow moving from underneath the door. "You're here to change my mind, aren't you."

She says nothing.

"Well, it's definitely not for a social visit. We're talking now, but after we do, I'm sending you back."

"Why?"

"I told you before." A rustling of fabric. "You shouldn't be here. I want…I want you to be happy, not pining for someone like me."

"Someone who plans to die here, right?"

The lack of reply is a reply in itself.

Chizuru surprises herself when she smacks her fist against the door; she hears Hijikata jump as well and something about that is satisfying. " _No_."

"Chi—"

"No, you always do this. You assume you're thinking about other people before you, but you've always had this problem of not thinking about how they feel about you." Her knuckles sting, but the ache in her heart is worse.

"Are you saying you understand how leaders think? I'm doing the best I can here. You can't be here."

They've had a similar conversation before. "No, not as a leader. As…as a person to another person." She pauses, to gather the right words. "You think you can carry it all on your own, but I don't think any person should have to do that. People always need people. Even leaders."

What can she say, to get through to him? Why were her words failing her when she needed them the most? She stares at the door, the grains of wood blurry before her eyes.

"Hijikata-san." His name sounds both sweet and bitter in her mouth. A name she'd never grow weary of saying, but has he tired of hers? "There's no place I'd rather be, except to be with you. I know I've said it before, but even if you send me away over and over, I'll still return. Until you change your mind."

The silence hurts as she swallows her tears. For that she knew, he could open the door, drag her by the hand, and put her on a ship. It wasn't even about his reputation if they saw her with him—she understands he's trying to protect her, in the Hijikata sort of way. But putting her aside and asking her to forget about him…

She can't. She wouldn't let this go.

"Chizuru…"

Oh, he's speaking again. She waits for him to argue, to attempt to tell her that it didn't matter what she said. Maybe this time he'd someone to keep her from coming here again.

"Can you let me open the door?"

"Why?"

"Because I find it very hard to talk to someone through a door, and because it's been about four months since I last saw you."

"Not until you let me stay."

She hears him sigh. "You're going to stand there until I agree, aren't you."

"Yes."

"But why?"

"Why…?"

"Why would you do this? I told you that you could have a life, that you're not obligated to stay with the Shinsengumi anymore. You've fulfilled the purpose that you came to Kyoto for. I'm freeing you to be happy."

She shakes her head. "I'm happiest with you. And…" there's something she wants to tell him, badly, but those words wouldn't come yet. "And I can't watch you do this to yourself, standing at the top, alone."

The low chuckle she hears is more resigned than amused. "Of all the people, it had to be me, huh."

"There…there isn't anyone else I want stay with."

The quiet click of the door. "If I let you st—"

She sees his mouth forming the last word, but it's trapped, caught in surprise when he looks at her, his eyes widening. "You're—" he seems to have forgotten how to speak.

"I'm—?" Then she remembers. "Oh, yes. I'm…" she glances down as well, then back up at him, flustered. In her frustration and worry, she had neglected the very prominent fact that she's with child. Strange how she's run through her mind how she was going to tell him this, but it never really happened that way.

Yet the fact he's not reacting in horror is a good thing. The surprise is expected.

"It's ours," Chizuru finally says, her words softer than before. "And part of the reason why I'm here, because you deserve to know. I was looking for the right moment to tell you, so I didn't want you to open the door, and—"

She feels his fingers against her chin—a warm, familiar sensation that she's missed, and whatever else she'd wanted to explain was forgotten by the look of wonder in his eyes.

"Ours," he repeats. "I can't believe it. Four months, so…"

"Yes, it was…then." That night he'd come to her room, instead of it being the other way around, and she remembers exactly, that night, was how she knew she wants to be loved by him. "I didn't know either, or else I would've said something, and…"

_Maybe you would've let me stay._

Hijikata's eyes are a little haunted, and a little regretful too; he's thinking the same thing, for sure. "Chizuru, I…" his fingers fall away from her chin, and then hover like he doesn't know where to place them.

So she takes his hand and lays it over her abdomen. He holds his hand still, like he's afraid to move.

"I didn't want you to think this is some burden that you have to take care of me, or that this is something I'm putting on you as a burden. I just wanted to know what you thought of me, first, and then this child."

Did that even make sense? Did he understand that she doesn't want to add to his responsibilities, and if he doesn't want this child, she'd leave and care for it on her own.

"If you want to say no, that's fine. I can…I can live without telling him or her your name, but they would know how great a man you are, and how you always stood for what you talked." The Shinsengumi values, she'd remember them. "I'll tell them their father was stubborn too, so stubborn because he cared so much for everyone except himself, and they would be proud of you, as well."

Except she'd still have to do it alone.

The thoughts of the four months she'd already spent alone makes the tears push through her resolutions, and she almost looks away.

But it had been Hijikata who told her, long ago, that if she believed in something, she shouldn't look down. She wasn't wrong. She was right, this is right, and she knows what she wants.

Knowledge and reality had a sharp separation, and it is that which cuts her now at the thought he could still close the door and wish her good luck, and tell her to leave.

So she breathes, and looks at him, for his reply.

It never came.

Well, not verbally.

More like him sliding his hand out from under hers, and for a moment she's afraid and ready to step back, but no—he's pulling her into a hug, like he did that other night. A little more cautiously, but it was the same sort of a hug, the one that was both apologetic and concerned and…loving.

Right? She's not imagining it when she inhales and all she smells is him—just him and how there's no space between them and he's tucking his hand in her hair. That was love, yes?

"You can stay." His voice nearly cracks on the last word, but it holds. "You win."

That wasn't the point, winning or losing. She's about to reply, but he's still speaking.

"I've thought a lot about you, and how you were doing. But I also realised…how hard it was without you, too." Fingers stroke the back of her head and she's momentarily distracted by the sensation. "I missed you."

_You could've sent for me._

But they both knew he wouldn't have, because of the sort of person he was.

However, he could accept this.

"I missed other things too. Like how often we talked, the tea you made, your scolding…" He squeezes her shoulders a little more tightly. "You…supported me. And I didn't know just how much until I left. I think a part of me doesn't know what to do when you aren't here."

"I missed you too." She slips her own arms around him, and notes he did become a little thinner since the last time. "You said you wanted me to be happy when you left, but it's you who makes me the happiest."

"I'd have to say the same." His shoulders spasm a little when he chuckles. "Your smiles—I missed those too."

When she leans away in order to look at him, he drags a finger across her lips, a familiar gesture that bring a few more tears—and then she tilts her head when he kisses her.

They say taste is one of strongest memories, and she's glad that his is unchanged, and that it brings back all the moments they were together, even that first time when he stood over him, snow falling and his hair fluttering in the wind. Never did she imagine she'd still be with him, and have a claim to him that no one else did.

As he pulls away, he keeps a hand on her face, thumb caressing her cheek and swiping at her tears. "Chizuru…" When he speaks again, his voice is contemplative. "Do you think the Shinsengumi still stands for what it means to be a true samurai? How I done what I was supposed to do? Have I led us down the right path?"

She nods. "The soul of the Shinsengumi that our friends believed in is alive in you." For sure. "In fact, I think it's even strong now. We've been through a lot but it's brought all of us together."

"Hearing you say that makes me happy."

_Good._

There's always been so little for him to be happy about. The moments of peace she's glimpsed, of contentment…they were so rare and the fact she could be a source of happiness, like he is for her…

"I'll continue to do my best."

"Guess I have to as well. Can't always have you winning these conversations."

Chizuru laughs for the first time in months, the sound bubbling up. "I'll let you win the next one, but only if you let me help you."

"Looks like I don't have any other choice." Then, his voice is a little more serious. "How many more months do you have before…giving birth?"

"About five."

"Mhm." He nods at that. "I know you want to help, but I don't want you pushing yourself and fainting, understood?"

"Th-that only happened once!" She shakes her bangs out of her eyes. "I'm resilient, I promise."

"More like _stubborn_."

"No more stubborn than you." She laughs again, and then rests her head in the crook of his shoulder. "You'll be a good father, Hijikata-san. I know it."

"I hope so." His body stiffens a little, and she wonders if he's still all too ready to lay down his life, that there's only this war to think about.

Well, she only just got here. And she'd see that he live longer, much longer. Not just for her, but for himself. The empty space is now filled, and she is loath to have that vacancy again. Her world can sustain her, but the addition of him, of seeing him at peace and not born down with cares and woes, is something she wants for their future.

Eventually, Hijikata remembers to close the door, offer her tea and chair. And, all too soon, he has to return to his work, but there's no question of where she'd be staying.

The lonely nights were over.

**.tbc.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is their kid a boy or girl? :P the answer will be in the next chapter (…or, if you've followed me long enough on tumblr, you might know the answer already lol)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly short, is a bit of a transitional chapter.

**.**

**VII.**

_January, 1869_

For some, fatherhood must be planned. There's marriage, then settling down, and then there's kids. Hijikata probably thought about that when he was really young, up to the point he started being serious about being a samurai, and then there was the Shinsengumi, and thoughts like that were completely gone.

It's startling how they can be brought back instantly, with Chizuru's arrival here. They're not married; he's still not even thinking about that sort of thing. But they're undoubtedly _together_.

And in a few months, he'd be a father.

How's that for a turn of events. He doesn't even know if he'd survive this whole war, and he's pondering this.

The men don't say much; Ootori smiles at him knowingly and he's sure some people give him glances, but really, all he has to say him and Chizuru are together, and well…their appearances are enough, right? He leaves his room more often, walking next to her. Sometimes they hold hands. Sometimes they kiss. And sometimes, when he looks at her, hair down and blowing in the wind, and dressed in a woman's kimono, he wonders just how he left her behind.

It's not simply her appearance too. She's a changed a little. Like how she'd stand next to his chair until he got up to rest, or how she no longer left notes telling him to eat, but instead she would tell him too and wouldn't leave. She'd also kiss him before he did, leaning in and brushing at his bangs with her hand, and then smiling at the look of bewilderment on his face.

_I almost gave up something precious,_ he thinks, as he watches her prepare tea one afternoon. _I thought I could do without her._ But it doesn't seem as if he's admitting weakness, having her here. It's definitely better, like this.

When their eyes meet, Hijikata coughs into his hand and looks back at the papers he's supposed to be signing.

If you asked a spectator, nothing in their lives as really changed; he's helping with the running of a nation, and she's supporting him, and that's what they've always done.

The difference is in how she presses against his shoulder and he rests his chin on her head, tucking his arm around her waist. Honestly, he might even let her sit there on his lap while he dealt with work, if she fit. Which she doesn't, but he makes up for it when he finally allows himself to pulled away for a break and they sit on the divan, pillowing her head on his lap as he runs his hand through her hair as he sips tea and they talk.

More recently, she'd grab his hand to place it over her abdomen, and if he's lucky, he'd feel their child moving and kicking. He didn't think he'd ever be the sort to talk at an unborn baby, but he finds himself going it, saying things like "You're very lucky Chizuru is your mother" and "I wonder if you'll be as much trouble as I was."

Maybe he does it because Chizuru gets such a soft look her on face, watching him be silly. She laughs, and every time, he's amazed he actually feels like he deserves this, and that he once told her not to follow him.

At night, when she goes to bed and he's left to his own thoughts, he remembers he once had the thought, "I'm not going into battle to win, but to lead," and he assumed that's how he would die.

But he can't.

Not anymore.

Crushing defeat, devastation, loss, come what may—he wants to live through that. He's got something to live for. He's got her and their child and now his worry is that he won't be there for them.

Just how much time does he even have? His last need for blood was a little before she arrived, and it'll probably happen again, soon enough. Another reminder that he doesn't have long to live, and between the worry of dying on the field and succumbing to the rasetsu life…

He hopes he'd live past all that. For them.

_February, 1869_

"What are we going to do about names?"

Chizuru looks up from tea she's pouring. "Names?"

"Yes, names. I think we ought to pick one for either a boy or girl."

"Oh, that's true." She sets a cup before him. "I forgot about that."

Only a few more months to go, even, and it hadn't crossed his mind. He had still been at "we're having a kid" stage. Actually, maybe past that, and it's only settling in now. They bought the necessary things, sought out a midwife, went a shrine, and Chizuru had actually sat him down and told him facts in life he hadn't ever learned, not even from his own family.

Babies were _complicated_.

Hijikata knows she has the fortitude-she's proven that—but she's lost some colour to her face, she sleeps more, sits more…

"Do you have anything in mind?" He could definitely pick her up and order her to stay still, but she'd insist on getting up only an hour later. "I've never named anything in my life…not even a dog or a cat."

She laughs. "No, that's why I asked you. I might've named one of the dolls I played with, but…our child needs something better than that."

He nearly wonders if he should ask advice, but then he remembers he can't actually do that. Kondou had a daughter, but they never spoke about that, simply because it never came up in their conversations.

"If it's a boy, don't name him after him." At her look, he realises that's just exactly what she had been thinking. "He might grow up being more stubborn than me."

"Hijikata-san, have more faith in your name. And if you say that, then I'm going to say that you can't name the girl after me."

"But I'd want her to grow up as lovely as her mother."

Her laugh is still something beautiful that he's come to appreciate. She doesn't really laugh loudly, but she shows her teeth and her whole face lights up. "You're teasing me."

"Just a little."

"So was I."

"Then we're even." He reaches out to tug on her hair, gently. "Maybe we should both make a list of names and then compare them, both female and male ones."

"I like that idea." She nudges his cup closer. "You should finish that."

"Mhm, I should." As always, he inhales it once before taking a sip. It's a familiar taste and still beats his attempts at tea. "And you should rest."

"But—"

" _Chizuru_." He shakes his head. "You have four more months."

"I'm hardly doing anything…"

"You're doing more than I expect." Hijikata finished the cup. "I'll be done with a few hours, have a meeting, then there's some training, and then I'll come back and we'll have dinner."

She reluctantly nods. "Don't sit for too long."

"I won't."

"You should still wear gloves. February is cold."

"I will."

"And—"

He kisses her. All right, he's a just a little exasperated that when it comes to worrying, she can outworry him. "Today will end well," he tells her, firmly.

And she nods, blush colouring her face noticeably. " _Hai_."

A part of him wants to pick up her and carry her where she needs to be; instead, he watches her cross the room to the adjoining one, and shuts the door behind her.

He's heard stories from married men say their wives sometime had cleaning sprees, were overly emotional, craved foods…at the most, Chizuru just worried a little more, and she definitely ate more.

Small changes.

And then the one change that would come in a matter of months, which has him worried. He counts the number of years he's been rasetsu, and adds it up against other rasetsu.

Just how long does he have?

Disquieted, he tries to focus back on his work.

_We're going to be parents, and I'm going to do my best with the time I have._

He does have a feeling him and Chizuru have more things to talk about, regarding this.

_March, 1869_

Maybe for a second, he wishes that bloodlust had a schedule. Like how women had one. Except that made no sense because bloodlust was not natural. It was payment, for the power he drank. He'd hoped it wouldn't happen when she was in the room, but probably the unlucky streak that followed the Shinsengumi is still onto him, and he ends up curled over his desk when she finds him.

She holds her hands out, which he grabs, turning his head away so his eyes don't focus on her neck, but he can still feel her pulse beneath his shaking fingers.

"Hijikata-san—"

He shakes his head. "Not…not this ti—" He shudders and sways, and tries to stand up and pull away, however she follows him, even as he sinks to his knees and presses his forehead to their joined hands. " _No_."

"But—"

"You're with _child_."

" _Our_ child. And I'm yours, like you're mine."

He still shakes his head, and breathes when his vision swims and he pictures himself lunging for her. Ugh, what a traitor his mind is. "I can't. I won't."

Those words, he grinds out and it feels like he's chewing on other ones, _like you're done enough, but I've done so little. I can't do this anymore to you after all that you've done for me—_

_And it's not like this can prolong my life._

He feels Chizuru pulling away, so he lets go and is ready to move aside, thinking she's going to let him be. Instead, she cradles his head under hers, and pulls out the small knife she carries on her.

"I'll be fine," she tells him, reaching up to her neck, "I promise, I'll be fine."

_I'll never be fine with this._ But like the tide that pulls at shore, he can't stop himself from seeing the blood dripping, and how she tugs her kimono away, and he latches on with a weary sigh.

It's to his guilt that it still tastes as good as ever—rich, calming, heady. He gulps and tells himself he'll take less than he did in past…yet even that is hard, especially when she strokes his hair and face. At least, he pulls away and feels himself returning to normal, and then he's properly sitting up.

"How to you feel? Cold? Dizzy? Hurting anyway?"

She blinks and takes a few breaths. "Just fine."

Hijikata takes her hand, and finds it warm. He touches her face, and notes how white it is next to his. "Really?"

"Maybe a little light-headed." Chizuru exhales deeply, gripping his hand. "But the child feels fine, and all I need is some sleep."

His stomach churns, and he looks away. "You didn't have to; I've borne it just fine."

"That must have still hurt."

"Everyone can take some pain."

"But you—" She clenches her hand a little more. "You've already taken so much upon yourself, and that's why I'm here."

Is it possible to be so selfless that it becomes selfish, that you care more about others than you do yourself? He wants to be strong, wants ignore the craving for blood, but at the same time, this keeps him sane, allows him another day of no pain, another day of seeing her…

He shuts his eyes and pulls her close. "If there can ever be an alternative…" he stops. "Even if, I don't know how long I can do this."

Being rasetsu, living, fighting…all of which wears down at his time left.

"But, you make me want to live longer, for all our sakes." His voice cracks and he has to swallow to regain it again. "I want to see us together for a year, two years…until our child is old enough to be impudent, and see them grow up and marry and have a normal life." The list goes on, so very long, but he can't speak of it lest he lose control again. "And I want to stay by your side until we both say goodbye to this world, because you're my reason for wanting to live."

It's so much more likely he'd pass away from fighting or using up his life. It didn't keep him from hoping, wanting, _desiring_. Desiring her and to be with her. This is the first time he's told her, for they've reached that point where it's useless to have secrets.

Hijikata stirs when she clasps her hands around his neck. "Just hearing that makes me happy." She's teary-eyed, but her voice doesn't shake. "It really does, because I want that to."

"I don't know if…we can."

"Knowing you want the same things I do, that's good. I don't care about the rest. I just care that you're here and that you want a life with them, and…" A half-sob, half-hiccup. "I'm _glad_." That's all the warning he gets before she pulls harder on him for a kiss.

In his moments of inadequacy, she is more than enough. Certainly enough to make all his feelings for her rise in him and threaten to spill over as he strokes her shoulders and holds them, and he thinks about doing more, more for her, more to let her know just how much she means to him.

But in place of that, he brushes her tears away, and sits holding her until she falls asleep and the sun goes down, and he looks at her pale face and really hopes things will be all right. She's providing for two people right now, and to take of that to give to him…

What a wondrous person he held in his arms, a person who wanted him and chose him. Even in sleep, her fingers are latched to his shirt.

_I've never loved someone so much that it hurt like this._

He shuts his eyes, and breathes raggedly until he calms down. It sounds so sentimental, so unlike him, but from the time he stopped seeing her as a duty, and a person who is his equal, he supposes he's mellowed out some. Making promises, whispering endearments, becoming a father—heh, that's what comes of it.

How his men would laugh. Souji, especially, but he has the feeling if he were still around, he'd be spoiling their child and teaching games and all that. The whole Shinsengumi, even. In another time, maybe they could've been simply a dojo, all gotten married, had kids, grown old together, and died content.

Yet this life, if you died bravely, that wasn't so bad, either. Kondou passed away peacefully, Souji died fighting for him, and Heisuke and Sannan, they went past the limits of their body for something they found worth in.

_I hope I've done everyone an honour, with this._ Choosing life. Choosing Chizuru. Figuring things out one day at a time.

He'd gladly give up the title of 'oni-fukuchou', for this.

**.tbc.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hnnngh okay originally there another section, but literally I was winging everything because 1) I have not experienced pregnancy yet and lol won't be doing that anytime soon, and 2) it wasn't feeling right, no matter how much research I did. Maybe some people can write this sort of scene, but I don't feel like I can, so I scrapped about one and half pages, and plan to use bits and pieces of it in the next chapter.
> 
> All I can say is that people giving birth are pretty badass for going through it. Gosh. I have extra respect for them.
> 
> I do apologise for the shortness, but that section I couldn't read without cringing for most of it, and my way of solving things when they don't work is to either scrap and rewrite, or scrap completey. In this case, scrapping it completely played to my strengths in writing.
> 
> …I did promise so say whether it was a boy or girl (and that was going to be worked in, but ugh. The section was Not Working Out), so—
> 
> It's a girl ^^ I've seen various fanartists agree on this and it's honestly cute so why not~
> 
> AND FINALLY, the chapter is _not_ PG-13…
> 
> Smut in Chizuru's POV? hell yes 8)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something has to be said about that fact I like writing smut in Chizuru's POV. I mean the whole game is in her POV, so I love writing her because it's easy to get into her mindset, and smut is an extension of that. Plus it's high time she got to indulge, so 8)
> 
> This is set a bit before the whole "Hijikata gets shot" incident.

**_._ **

_May, 1869_

It's fitting their child be born in the spring, when winter has passed. Rather cliché, but she never grows tired of it. She's always enjoyed seeing plants poking out the snow, of the first leaves on trees, and the birds once against returning to sing in the morning.

Their winter is over, too.

Chizuru looks out the window, and wishes she could be outside. That's something she hasn't done in a while, because if she set one foot outside, either Hijikata, or Shimada, or Ootori would be hovering somewhere. Mostly Hijikata. There's moments she wished there other women around, women that had raised children and knew things. Aside from the midwife, she's had little company like that. In some ways, after being with the Shinsengumi so long, she's forgotten what it's like to have women around. Their daily lives differed so much…

Not in the area of worrying, though. She thinks about Hijikata, risking his life nearly every day when he's out there. She looked down at her daughter and hopes nothing ill will befall her. She'd been a few weeks early—nearly a month. Hijikata says it's because he put strain on her by taking her blood, but she's long since dismissed it. He needed the blood, and she was willing to give it. She has enough. And besides, as tiny as her daughter is, she's healthy and seemingly no different from any other child that Chizuru has come into contact with. As of now, her fist is curled around a strand of Chizuru's hair, holding fast as she sleeps.

 _You're so beautiful._ She has her father's eyes and her mother's nose, and already proved stubborn, a trait Chizuru shared with Hijikata. She touches the tiny fist, and finally releases her hair from that grasp.

Hijikata steps through the door, puling his coat off and dropping it over a chair. "Today was fine," he says, after they've greeted each other. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"That's good." She tilts her face up so that he can kiss her cheek, and then their daughter's cheek.

"How is she?"

"Fine as well. She woke up and fussed in the afternoon, but I got her to go back to sleep."

"I guess it's my turn tonight if she wakes up?"

"Yes."

Hijikata makes a sound of mock frustration. "You know I love her, but I'll be glad when we're past this stage."

"Aren't you saying that a little too early? It's not even a month yet."

"I know…" Reaching out his hand, he fluffs the soft hair with his fingertips. "I don't really mind it."

"Neither do I." She watches his actions with a smile. "You should hold her."

It's rare that she ever sees Hijikata's nervous, but holding a child is something he doesn't have a chance often for, and she always has to help him position his arms and make him sit down.

"I'm going to get used to this," he mutters. "It's not even like holding a cat or a dog."

"That's why I'm here—to make sure nothing happens." She squeezes his shoulder. "Besides, Chie would forgive you."

"She wouldn't let me live it down once you tell her, when she's older."

For some reason, it always makes her happy when Hijikata speaks about the future, about the three of them. The war looks grim, and the weariness in his eyes worries her, but he always seems to put aside what he's carrying, when he's in the same room as her and their daughter.

"You have that look on your face again."

"Look?"

"When you smile and you…seems really content but sad at the same time." Hijikata cup her cheek. "You all right?"

"Yes." She nods. "I sometimes think too much, but it's mostly good thoughts." She reaches for his hand. "Both of you make my life complete."

They don't even have their own home, nor are they officially married. She doesn't even call him anything beyond "Hijikata-san" still.

Yet they're in undeniably together. She's sure there'd been some rumours, all of which were now gone because Hijikata put an end to them (She heard from Shimada he'd actually yelled, "that's my kid. Any questions?" and people stopped whispering), but it's not like it mattered. They knew where they stood.

It's a good place to be in.

_June, 1869_

"I think my time is almost up."

She looks up sharply at those words.

"Not that." He furrows his brow. "My time fighting. They're aiming for something more decisive, before this war drags on any more than it has too. They want me to lead them on an attack at Hakodate. But I think that's going to be my last."

"Why do you think that?"

"The politics…they aren't my thing. From the Shogun, to this new country…I think some people are meant to shape the world, and some are meant to rule and take charge, but I'm the former." Hijikata stands by the window; for once, there's no paperwork left on desk. "I've done enough."

She locks her hands together, and stares down at them while she searches for the words to say. "Are you resigning?"

"Yes."

"How did everyone take the news?"

"It went better than I thought. Ootori-san says he'll miss the advice I gave, and then some." A short laugh. "He wants us to go live a happy life."

"Are you?"

He looks away from the window, to study her. "A few months ago, I would've said no to a happy life." The floor creaks under his feet, as he walks towards her. "But I want it now. Not just because I have a daughter, but because you showed me that there was more than I was seeing."

Chizuru lets out a breath. "Once you put down your sword—"

"I can't pick it up again, I know." He offers a thin, wry smile. "Not for the same reasons I first picked it up."

"You're still a samurai."

"But samurai no longer have a place, except in name. Our time is over." The pause is brief, as something flickers in his eyes. "That goes for the Shinsengumi, too. But I can live with being a samurai in spirit."

When she closes her eyes, she can picture all of them—Hijikata, Kondou, Sannan, the captains—their backs to her, walking towards a future. The future's now here, but it's far more tattered than she'd expected. Their backs had disappeared, until there's one left.

And it's the one she has chosen to embrace.

"But you're still here."

"Yeah." Hijikata reaches out to her, and she unclasps her hands to take his. "And I can't leave."

There's always that rush of emotions, when Hijikata kisses her that way after they talk seriously. Like he's apologising for these bitter topics they have to discuss. It's not that they can't face the reality, but more that after facing it, it's necessary to have breathing space.

She kisses him back, and marvels how she can't tire of this, of how he taste, feels, smells…the way he has to lower his head, and the way his bangs brush her face. His fingers brush over her shoulder, and when they pull back, he's looking at her with a question in his eyes.

She hesitates. "It's…not that I don't want to." A blush starts at nape of her neck and tickles up to her face. "I don't think I can…"

"There's other ways." Hijikata tucks a few strands of her hair behind her ear. "If you'll let me," he says with a murmur right next to her ear.

It makes her shiver and lose her voice momentarily, so she nods. "We have to be quiet," she manages to say. "Or else we'll wake Chie up."

Hijikata leans in closer. "I don't think I'm going to be the one having trouble keeping quiet, Chizuru." He draws out her name, like he's savouring it. "But I'll keep you quiet, if I can."

She nods again, and then pulls herself up by curling her fingers in his hair. He responds by settling his hands on her hips, the heat in his hands burning through fabric.

 _You're not wrong._ She really is going to have to make an effort, at the way he lavishes kisses over any visible skin and she's trying to do the same, but it's hard when he's taller and he's holding her wrists, not like a vice, but rather cradlingand running his thumbs against the soft part of the inside of her forearms. Soft, careful touches, coupled with his kissing, that make her waver until he has to hold her up.

"You're cheating," she whispers, when he sets her on his desk.

"I'm just taking advantage." His words are collected, but at the way he's breathing and how he seems drawn tight like a bow, she knows it's so long for them, and he's trying to withhold himself.

Chizuru glances at the bedroom. "Are you sure?"

"More risk of waking her up in there." He's reaching behind her for her obi.

"But this is your desk."

"So? It's cleared and I've got no intentions to use it anymore." Hijikata tugs on his own clothing, loosening his collaring. "Except for tonight."

How she's remembering to breathe, she isn't sure. Especially when he starts pulling away her clothing and tracing nonsensical patterns over her skin with just more than his fingers. She's amazed that even after months, he still remembers things that make her heart pick up its pace and her inhales shallower, like crook of her elbow and her throat, and the area right underneath her left ear, particularly.

He's terrible, so terrible in the good ways that make it seem effortlessly. If she tries, she can probably count the number of times they're slept together. She remember when they first started out more for mutual comfort than anything else, and then it became more. And each time, it's still vividly different. She can't remember if he's actually…well, refused to let her do a thing while he touches her. She knows very well she can sit up and make this more even, but she can't bring herself to do that. There's something nice about not having to do a thing beyond staying quiet (which is becoming difficult), about watching him caress her, even as much as she wants to dig her fingers into him and also reciprocate.

Feelings are strange, and desire is above all confusing. It can make people lose their minds faster than any bloodlust, and it can drive people to bad decisions. But when you're with the person who makes you safe, who makes sure your desires aren't wild abandon, it's freeing. So freeing.

Chizuru fastens her hands to the sides of the desk and presses her head back when he slides lower and kisses her inner thighs. At that point she can't help but clutch at him, to make him go faster, more intimate, _more_. He looks up once to gauge her reaction, and she arches against him as a yes, waving a hand. He catches it, kisses is once, and then lowers his head again. Again, it's desire, cutting through proper thoughts and spiralling them all into one thing. While Hijikata's actions are gentle and she knows he's doing his best to be careful, there is nothing careful about she's biting a lip and their hands are gripping each other so tightly that she wonders if it wouldn't leave bruises. Desire has never been said to be kind, but passionate.

And it's passion, for her. She can see it, feel it. At just how he coaxes this out of her and lets her yank on his hair and shove her feet against his shoulders, and how she's mostly successful at being quiet and how it's like she's freefalling at his command, but he's still there to make sure she doesn't crash.

"You're beautiful."

Beautiful? She catches her breath and blinks when the sparkles fade in her eyes and she looks up. "That's…that's not the word I'd use."

"I'm not asking your opinion on that." He pushes away her sweaty bangs. "You just are."

Chizuru giggles, relaxing as everything slows and she can think again. "That's not fair…"

"No?"

She undoes a button his shirt. "This isn't fair." It's not about seeing him shirtless, it's about how he sharply inhales when she's the one undressing him Her fingers are a little clumsy but she manages well enough, until he's bent over her and there's a glazed look in his eyes.

It's been too long, for the both of them. Months and months, and so much worry. There's been less of it, but certain levels of intimacy had to be put aside. So to have it back, it's is a reward. While this isn't fully what they both want, it's good enough and seeing him unravel in her hands is something she's missed. He does a good job of holding himself up, even with her keeping her hands busy.

When he hisses through his teeth, she shushes him. "Quiet, remember?"

"I take back what I said earlier," he whispers back, hoarsely. "It's hard. I forgot."

Hijikata ends up burying his nose against her neck and gasping her name when he reaches his limit, and he leans against her hard. She brings her hand up to rest against his back, to feel him gulp air until it at last slows.

"I'm not heavy, am I?"

"No, you're fine. But isn't it uncomfortable?" she's at least on her back, but he's still stooped against the desk.

"I'll move. Later." His fingers catch in her hair, elbow knocking into her side.

She understands; his warmth, pressed into her, is too nice. They managed to keep quiet and it seems like Chie will sleep through the night.

"You're going out in the morning, right?"

"Mhm. Morning."

"We should sleep."

"Mm."

"Hijikata-san…"

He nudges her with the side of his head. "All right, fine."

They somehow manage to get to their bed and he's already halfway out, but he takes the time to curl his arm around her.

"Chizuru. Whatever happens tomorrow, I—" he exhales deeply. "I'm going to live on."

"I know." They'll make it.

"I can't leave behind the woman that came for me. Not again."

"I know." She combs his hair out of his face. "I'm not afraid." It's not about abandonment. "I'm by your side."

"Good." He tightens his hold. "That's good."

It hurts, when she thinks about the fact he's going to die earlier than her. That's a given with how much rasetsu power he's used. But a year, two years—she'll take them. They've redeemed the time and they make the best of it.

She sleeps with him tucked against her, and prays that tomorrow, he'll survive for much longer.

**.tbc.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name explanation time! I _almost_ went with Sakura for their daughter's name. And then I remembered there's an excellent Hijikata/Chizuru artist on pixiv, and one of their pieces featured Hijikata and Chizuru with a daughter. Said name was 千恵, and I really loved it. I also liked the fact that all oni have "千" in their names and I think Chizuru would've kept that. When I input 千恵 into a dictionary, it gave me various things, so I went for the one that I liked best. The meaning for this one is "a thousand blessings/graces" and I think it's fitting.
> 
> (btw, for the curious—Hijikata and Chizuru do have a child in their route. It's not mentioned in the main game or Zuisouroku; it's in the epilogue of Reimeiroku. Basically what this fic did is move all of that up a little bit XD 
> 
> lol I'm hoping that Shinkai will mention it too...)
> 
> Next chapter contains more Kazama (being an ass as usual).


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Borrowing a little from everywhere, adding in my own stuff, some references to Hakumyu Hijikata-hen…so I hope it works and holds together.
> 
> Also, this is the end. I know I said it was going to be ten chapters, but that's not happening. I worked on another chapter from Chizuru's pov, but after three false starts, with the third being half completed, it felt too forced of an "ending". Not to mention the games themselves, they had such a good ending that I can't really add on to it. I tried, but after writing this story for so long, I finally figured out what works and what doesn't. Maybe after a few months I'll look at this and add something on, but for now, this story is complete.

**.**

_June, 1869_

He might've become a little numb to gunshots. After all, as long as they weren't silver bullets, he's in the clear. Some of them hurt a little when he had to dig them out, but it's not…not _that_ bad. Maybe he was careless too. Over the past few months he's been healing slower, but he hadn't thought much about it. Not until he got hit in the side and fell off his horse. It's been a while since something hurt this badly. Almost comparable to the sword wounds Kazama inflicted on him, but with less sting and more bleeding. Watching your vision blur and sharpen is oddly mesmerising, and he lies there until it's quiet and it's likely been assumed that he's died before he pushes himself up.

_This is it, isn't it._

Hijikata has never been afraid of dying. Dying in itself was inevitable, and if you stared at it long enough, it's not an enemy. But it had a sense of bad timing, or showing up when he least wants it too, like now. It stretches a beckoning hand, in the recesses of his mind, pulling him towards darkness.

_Not yet._

_I still have more things to do._

_More._

He needs to get back. He needs to find Chizuru and Chie. This is but a setback. When he glances back, a trail of blood follows him and he tries to move faster, lest someone picks up the trail. The tree roots and branches seemed to have become more innumerable, snagging at him from all directions.

 _Goddamnit_.

Who thought it was a good idea for humans to bleed when they got cut? Or that it took forever to replenish blood? It's bad enough, but he also craves it; the need pricks at his thoughts and he almost considers turning back to wound some random enemy. That's a ridiculous thought, though—he shuts it down and continues on, one hand on his sword and the other supporting himself on whatever he can.

_Wait for me, Chizuru._

_I might be done here, but we're not done yet._

**.**

Evening finds him out of the woods—literally, not figuratively. He's bitten his lower lip into a mess—the blood, while not satisfying, is a reminder and keeps him aware. Somehow, he knew that Kazama would be standing on top of the hill, waiting for him. He's a little annoyed at the shower of petals, because they fit the mood and fit the demon, too. A full moon, the perfect breeze—if he still wrote haiku, much could be said of this night.

 _What are we, actors on a perfect stage with an audience?_ He hasn't gone to seen many staged productions; not that they bored him, but he lacked the time. But everyone is familiar with this sort of story, with a dramatic cascade of petals so thick you could practically taste them, and how only one of them would walk out of this alive.

The unexpected factor is Chizuru, stepping out from behind a tree, pale and tense, and a little tear-stained. In her arms is the Shinsengumi banner, scorched and torn. The symbol 誠 still gleams yellow against the red background, still unfaded despite being dirtied.

"Chizuru?"

"I told him to bring me to find you, because he said he would come. We found this banner and I thought—" She runs forward, their daughter on her back. "You're hurt."

"Sort of." He straightens his back just as she reaches him. "They got me on the way to Benten Fortress."

She makes a sound once she's pulled away his shirt. "This isn't a small wound. How did you even manage to make it here?"

"Because I know you were waiting for me." He pats her on the head. "Wasn't easy, though."

Her fingers touch his lip, over where he's bitten in nearly raw. "You shouldn't be fighting anymore." She glances back at Kazama. "Can't it wait? Two days?"

"Probably not. I've kept him waiting." Hijikata breathes out and presses a hand over his side. "Besides, I'm tired of waiting."

Chizuru sets her mouth in a thin line. "Well, he can wait a little longer right now."

"I'm hardly patient, Yukimura." Kazama rests his hand on his sword.

"You're going to have to wait, or go through me." Her voice is as sharp as any blade, and even Hijikata finds himself recoiling a little. "It's not even fair, because he's injured and you aren't."

Kazama makes a sound in his throat, but he turns around and goes to lean against the tree.

"How did you manage that?"

"Once I stopped let him frighten me or try to order me around…" She motions for him to sit. "He's not without reason."

"Not without reason, huh." He can think of all the times there had been little reason to Kazama's actions. "I don't think I can ever understand demons."

"Neither will I." Chizuru shreds his shirt into strips.

"Not including yourself?"

"I think…I'm more human than demon in my thinking." Her fingers don't falter as they bind up his injury. "I was raised human, so suddenly being told that I'm a demon, doesn't mean I have to start living as one. My…father, before he left me, I think he wanted me to human, too." Her voice trembles over the word 'father', but she continues. "There's no point in not being what I believed I was for most of my life."

"And yet you insist you heal quickly, so you let me…do that."

"Because you need it."

"You need it more."

"No, you." She holds out her kodachi. "You look terrible."

"Chizuru…"

" _Please_." The sword is placed in his hands. "I'll be all right."

"He's looking this way."

"I think at this point your whole army could be watching and it wouldn't matter to me." She rests her hand over his.

He looks at her, and then Chie. "It's amazing how she's asleep."

"She's been very good. She listens to everything I said."

"You're calling me disobedient, aren't you."

"A little."

He sighs. "All right, one more time." And hopefully the last.

"Wait." Chizuru offers her wrist. "I want to try something."

"Something?" But he makes the cut, and as usual, he looks away. Blood doesn't make him sick, or killing people, but it's always been off when he cuts her, to satisfying his needs.

He's surprised when she brings her own lips to her wrist, and then leans over to kiss him. He swallows, feels his heart race, and blinks when the aftertaste is of her. She repeats the actions, until she's practically in his lap and he nearly forgets why she's doing this for him as he holds her, one hand tangling in her hair. When he looks over at Kazama, the demon is standing with his back to them, posture stiff and annoyance and disgust radiating from him.

Hijikata almost laughs. Almost. His own disgust with himself still makes him carefully wipe the blood off Chizuru's mouth and make sure she and Chie are all right. Honestly, he'll never be use to it.

"I don't like seeing the woman I love get hurt." It's so fucking wrong.

"Well, I don't like seeing the man I love get hurt, either." She arranges his bangs so they hang neatly against his face, and not in his eyes. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah." Not perfectly well, but good enough. Good to the point he can stand up and swing his sword without excruciating hurt. She stands as well, one hand slightly outstretched towards him.

He takes her hand. "For the record, you look beautiful, standing among these trees."

Chizuru blinks.

"They suit you."

"I'd say the same thing of you."

"Heh." A petal floats down and he watches it flurry down to the ground before he grips his sword and unsheathes it. Moonlight glints, cold and bright in the dark.

"I'll be back." He echoes his thoughts from a few hours ago. "Wait for me, Chizuru."

"You know I always will." She squeezes his hand and lets him stand. "Be careful." Her hand strays to back to banner, like it's become a source of comfort.

He kisses her a final time, and the top of Chie's head, and walks towards Kazama.

_I've made you wait for so many things, but I promise, this will be the last time._

**.**

_"_ _The life you strive to live is not that a rasetsu. You are a demon. I rescind any time I have called you false. If you are now a demon, you should have a demon's name. Thus I name you…Hakuouki."_

 _"_ _Thanks, I guess. But I'm not doing this so you'll call me a demon, you know."_

He finally stands over Kazama, and wipes the blood running down his forehead. Does he hate Kazama? Not really. Someone who fought well, and actually fairly, he could respect. There hadn't been any flaunting of demon powers or special swords, and very little taunting. He's not sure exactly what he did to earn this respect, but he doesn't care.

The name Hakuouki, therefore, does not mean all that much, and he's not expecting to be called by it.

"It's like you wanted me to win," he muses out loud. "Are you sure you didn't go easy on me?"

"Did I? You misread me intentions." Kazama coughs, but doesn't spit out the blood; Hijikata can see his throat working as he swallow. Too proud to do something as vulgar as spitting, huh. "You merely proved yourself to me."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't care about that?" He crouches next to him. "You simply got in my way, so I had to eliminate you."

"What of that man I killed?"

"Gen-san?" He grits his teeth and smiles thinly. "You really want to piss me off, don't you."

"Anger brings out the truest feelings, I believe." The demon almost smiles.

"Like how I cut you on the face?"

"You're pushing your luck for my respect."

"Likewise."

They both fall silent. He brushes some petals off Kazama's face with the back of his hand, and then off his own shoulder. The wind has died down, yet the tree continues to shed its blossoms; the ground is pink and red and vibrant even in just moonlight.

"Kazama-san." Chizuru kneels next to him. "Is there…any particular place you want to be laid to rest?"

The demon shifts his gaze to her. "You seem eager to be rid of me."

Chizuru shakes her head. "I'm not going to leave any person lying out here like this."

It's odd to compare their eyes, Kazama and Chizuru's. Chizuru's are mostly brown but a little coppery in bright lights, but Kazama's are almost as red as rasetsu eyes. From the vague things he's heard in passing, they're actually equal in power and rank. But where Kazama is pretentious, Chizuru is humble. There couldn't be more difference. And from what he's heard about other demons, they always seemed to have that "Most humans are inferior and greedy and selfish" assumption.

"You should talk to her with more respect than that," he says. "I'm not actually against leaving you here."

"Hijikata-san—"

He pats her hand. "I meant I'd bury him here and be done with it."

"Oh."

"While I approve of you, I still hardly approve of your…union." Kazama cuts in. "For many reasons."

"No one asked you." Hijikata pulls Chizuru to his side. "She doesn't need your blessing, and neither do I."

"And that's the problem with everything."

 _How petulant_. There's a lot of things he could think of to say about Kazama, but he keeps them to himself—for Chizuru's sake. Besides, it not worth arguing during someone's last hours. "The problem is you thinking this world waits for you, or any of us."

"Amagiri would rather we be forgotten. Shiranui doesn't care otherwise."

"And you?"

"Demons once had a respected place on this earth. Feared, revered, almost worshipped."

"Hardly immortal."

Kazama snorts, even thought it cuts off his air for a few seconds. "You weren't…a waste of my time, at least."

Begrudging even to the end. Was it really that hard to say thanks?

The demon coughs a little more; Chizuru reaches out to touch his shoulder. "Maybe you shouldn't talk."

"Does it matter? I will pass on in seconds, minutes…certainly not hours."

His own wounds still bleed, but nowhere at the rate of Kazama's.

"Any last words?" Hijikata finally asks, to break the sounds of dying. He's never done with sitting next to people, listening to them draw their last breaths.

Kazama closes his eyes. "If I am to die, fighting a samurai like you—" Exhale. "—I have nothing to regret. My life was fulfilled." Inhale. "Hakuouki—" With a last effort, he opens his eyes, and grips the front of Hijikata's jacket. "Take advantage—of what little remains of your life."

And then the hand calls away, and the lungs heaving for air still.

He reaches out to close Kazama's eyes, and arranges his hands over his chest. "What else do you think I'd be doing," he says, though there's no ire in his voice. In some strange way, through fighting, they've made their peace. He doubts other demons will come looking for Chizuru, or for them.

She shivers against him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Cold?"

"A little." June nights aren't the warmest, and in Ezo, they were even cooler.

He looks at his jacket; it's so stained he's reluctant to let her wear it, but…

"It's warm like this." She pulls his arm to lie around her shoulders; Chie is in her arms now, instead of on her back.

All of sudden, Hijikata wants to hug her. Just forget everything and hold her, not think about time, about a place to stay—all those menial things that didn't matter But he has to sit down; the last fight is taking its toll and all his bones and his muscles _hurt_. He could sleep for a day, maybe more. His head rests heavily on Chizuru's shoulder and he apologises.

"Don't worry." Her warm fingers press over one temple. "We can stay here until morning."

"I don't want either of you outside."

"We'll be all right." Her voice is as gentle as her fingers. "You're not exactly in any shape to do any ordering."

"I think my ordering days are all over, at this point."

"Not all orders." A finger traces the outline of his lips. "For example, if you ordered me to kiss you…"

"Heh." Hijikata grips her hand, stilling it. "I look forward to that."

It doesn't feel like a loss, today. No more war, no more soldiers, no more fighting. It feels like fulfilment and freedom.

"I think you did it." She reaches out for the banner, dragging it towards them. "I'm sure everyone is happy for you."

The banner, he grips in his hand. It smells of gunpowder, not blood.

"Do you think…" Chizuru traces the outline of the embroidered word, "it's pointless if I washed and repaired it?"

The Shinsengumi is disbanded; they'll probably assume him dead. All his captains save maybe one or two were alive, but he doesn't feel the need to seek them out. Out of all his other subordinates, only Shimada remains. They haven't had a place to stay, time to rest, or people that remembered them. Maybe it's better to leave the Shinsengumi forgotten. Their time is over.

"No, it's not pointless." He slides lower until his head rests in Chizuru's lap. "It'd be an honour, if you fixed it." One person, at the very least, will remember. And now, there's going to be two. He cups Chizuru's cheek, as well as Chie. "Thank you."

The last of his consciousness is spent on looking at both of them, while the cherry blossoms fell about them and flooded his vision until he shuts his eyes, and thinks—hopes—of tomorrow.

_We've come a long way, Chizuru._

_You showed me something better, something more than I deserved._

_You came looking for me._

_You gave us a daughter._

_Meanwhile, I make you worry and cry. You've seen my best and my worst. Yet you insisted you'd stay by my side, until I finally told you to stay._

_You waited._

_Thank you._

**.**

_Now I know, no matter how much I try to deny it, that you are irreplaceable._

_I'll never let you go again._

—Hijikata Toshizou in a letter to Yukimura Chizuru, from **_Stories of the Shinsengumi/Zuisouroku_**

**.**

**.the end.**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> **Acknowledgements:**  
> 
> 
> Thanks goes all the readers and subscribers and people who left kudos. Special thanks to my Calegion, who keeps me going with their kudos bombing and messages, and are the most charming and sweetest fans I could ever have.
> 
> I'd also like thank all the people who left comments—seriously, those comments kept me going and even during the times I wasn't sure about my writing, you guys pushed me to do my best and to continue writing on.
> 
> I'd like to especially thank _leaveittiltormorrow_ on tumblr for this idea, and I do apologise it took me so long to write it. The original post is [here](http://leaveittiltomorrow.tumblr.com/post/108306228128/hijikata-san-she-whispered-small-hands) and I've tried to keep true to it to the best of my abilities.
> 
> Aaaand I'd like to extend an extra thanks to abstractcactus on tumblr for THIS REALLY BEAUTIFUL FANART SHE DREW BECAUSE OF CHAPTER TWO, found [here](http://abstractcactus.tumblr.com/post/124543990910); I think about it really often and sort of just flop around in happiness for its existence.
> 
> Special thanks go to _lightningwaltz_ and _Celtic_Knot_ for all the Line messages and discussions about this and it's so great to have fellow writers cheering me on.
> 
> Thank you so much, guys ♥ I really appreciate all the feedback and all the kudos and all the readers/subscribers/bookmarkers etc for all the support :3
> 
>   
>  **Final Author's Notes**   
> 
> 
> Hijichi was one of those ships that grew on me the more I replayed and wrote for this ship. I think Hijikata gets sort of understated at times; he's assumed to be sort of cold, strict, angry…sometimes called tsundere. But his problem is that he's the leader and he cares so much about the people around him, and he has to act a certain way to keep everyone on their toes. He doesn't have time to romance, doesn't have time to even take a break unless someone tries to stab him and he actually has to give pause.
> 
> And that's when Chizuru steps up, for him. She ingrains herself in his life, bit by bit, gaining his confidence and giving him what no one else could offer (or what he would accept), and although it takes him forever to see it, he does. He really isn't great the romancing part, but I wouldn't call that selfish. It's bewildering to him that she'd stay so long with him, while he keeps putting her through this grief of losing people, so he finally just has to accept that she loves him.
> 
> Hence writing a longfic for them was something I really wanted to do, but I didn't think of any ideas. So when leaveittiltomorrow posted that entry, it piqued my interest so I messaged her and it went from there.
> 
> It wasn't smooth sailing; I kept worrying that it wouldn't match up to canon, or that it'd just be a few added elements without much originality. I didn't want to take the game script or anime script and use it word for word. And then there was also the planning, the research…it was a tiny bit overwhelming, lol. I was counting months to figure out when they did the deed that had the baby, when Chizuru was going to have the baby, and all the traditions and such surrounding them. It was originally going to be 5 chapters, grew to 8, and I settled on 10 and sort of looked myself and laughed because I can't seem to write longfics that are sort of short. HIJIKATA LIKES LONGFICS (see Unsaid, though that one was written really fast). Of course things changed again and there's 9 chapters to this. maybe in the future i'll really add on an epilogue. maybe. For now, this is complete as it is.
> 
> Chapters 1 – 5 I think I had planned pretty well, and updated those steadily. Chapters 6 –9 was when things were a little more muddled/I was worried/trying to tie everything together. Chapter 9 had me fretting because that scene was just so iconic (in the game, the anime, the movie…even in cosplay lol). Creative license was taken, and there were countless hours of me cursing at Kazama fucking Chikage (I swear I like him, but he causes me grief lol) and typing and deleting. I both look forward to and dread when I properly start writing Hijikata/Kazama (I have 12 chapters planned. Kill meeeeeee).
> 
> I'll end the rambling notes there. What's next? A couple short fics; I have really old prompts from a tumblr meme, I owe a Sano/Chizuru to someone, another Okisai that's going to be stuck into "Moments to Live", or "Encounters/The Saitou Effect", and some other stuff. I need a slight break from Hijikata to work on other characters; the next Hijikata longfic I write might be Ootori/Hijikata, actually. Or stuff about Hijikata and Kondou and Souji and their really weird family/not family dynamic. In any case, still a ton of things I want to try out 8)
> 
> AGAIN, THANK YOU SO MUCH. I LOVE YOU GUYS.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an epilogue. Written for Makku, who is a fantastic friend and does fantastic art. Fantastic Hijichi art. Happy (very) belated birthday :D
> 
> (this chapter is M for obvious reasons XD)

**.**

_May, 1870_

They walk hand in hand.

Chizuru thinks about how long she has waited for this, and she grips his hand more tightly. He looks down at her, amused. "I'm not going anywhere, unless it's with you."

"I know." She still blushes. After all these years, he could still make her do that. "I was just thinking how nice this was."

"It is, isn't it," he agrees, his thumb tracing hers. "And long overdue."

They technically skipped the formalities of a relationship, it was true. Neither of their parents are present, much less remaining family. Hijikata has mentioned a brother, a sister, but by now, they probably assumed him dead. It's rare for him these days to even use the name "Hijikata." Technically speaking, they didn't exist in this world.

They're just husband and wife, with a child. Today, said child was in someone else's care, because…they never had a real period of being romantic. Or being together without the war and death looming. Even now, it's not like Hijikata has a long life. So when Hijikata, after work, shuffles in and basically said 'I have free time; there was that one restaurant you really wanted to go to last time but Chie was sick, so will you come with me this time?'

Of course, she said yes. She even took the time to change, and fussed with Hijikata's clothes until he finally pulled her out the door, Chie wriggling in his grasp and babbling in random words. Their next neighbour also had a daughter, and it made Chizuru happy to see that.

She still thinks about the possibilities of bad things happening when she's not looking. But that's life; anything could happen. Like how she even ended up here. If her father hadn't been summoned, if she hadn't gone to Kyoto…she would've never met Hijikata. Her husband. She might still be married and have children, but it would have been such a different life.

"Chizuru."

"Yes?"

"You've gone all quiet."

"Just thinking." She holds out her hand, the one in his fingers, and looks at them. Hijikata has really nice fingers; slightly rough, slightly weathered, but she's come to love them, like the rest of him. "About you."

"Me, hm?"

"Having you in my life."

"Funny, I think a lot about that too. About you in my life."

She giggles, somewhat sheepishly. Has he ever been this…well, sweet? If that's the right word to use. Who would have guessed it, that Hijikata had that side to him, and he's showing it to _her_.

Only a year ago, he'd been barking orders at soldiers, all menacing and fearsome. But she's long since lost her fear, months before that. Maybe having a child helped, too. Hijikata doesn't even carry a sword these days; there was that law, true, but he no longer had the need for it. His swords, and hers—were stored carefully away.

"Do you already know what you want to order?"

"Yes." She's seen the menu several times. "But you might have to help me finish."

"I'm only helping after you're sure you're really full."

Chizuru laughs. "It's like the first time."

"First? Oh." Hijikata also laughs, rubbing the back of his head. "That was a great udon place. But did that really count?"

"It did."

"If you say so." He somehow managed to slip his hand away from her so he could curl his arm around her shoulders instead. "But I promise this time will be a better experience."

He just knew the things to say that made her forget how to speak and breath. After all this time, and she still can't get enough of him.

**.**

Grass rustles beneath their feet. The sun is setting, slow as it was wont to do during spring. It means a longer day, and so they're talking a walk, after dinner.

"Two hours."

"One hour."

He rescinds, reluctantly. "One hour."

Chie is young, and Chizuru doesn't like leaving her too long, even with friends. One hour is enough, and it's not like she and Hijikata won't be seeing each other anymore. Worries squeeze into the back of her mind; she pushes them away.

They still have time.

But some of her worry probably leaked through, because Hijikata is looking at her. "Are you doing all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She grips his hand tighter, all the same. "Today was good."

"It was." A pebble gets stuck between her shoe and foot and she hops slightly to loosen it. "I think this relationship went backwards."

"How so?"

"If you're counting this as a first date, we…" her voice trails off. "We had a child before that."

"Oh." Hijikata's laugh is never long, but the shortness of it is a sound she's never grown tired of. "And we technically aren't married…" He didn't sound bothered by that. "But no one's going to judge us if they don't know. Even if they did, it doesn't matter. Unless…it's bothering you?"

"Oh, no." She shakes her head. "It doesn't."

She likes the way they are, where they're at in life.

They go up a hill and down, and she realises where they're going. "This is where you fought him, isn't it."

"Yeah." His fingers curl against hers. "It's where I started a new life."

It had been night, but with the moon and how the cherry blossoms had reflected the light, it felt more brilliant than any day she's experienced. Like now, with the cherry blossoms half-gone, it feels sadder. There's not trace of blood, or even of scrapped up grass and dirt, but she can still picture it.

"You nearly died."

Hijikata mutters something.

"No, I knew why you had to fight. But—" She nudges him. "You always knew how to best make me worry."

"I should say the same of you. When you were having Chie, I…think that's when I understood how you felt. A little" He quickens his pace, pulls her a little faster. "And that was only once. How many times have you waited and watched?"

Too many times.

They reach that one giant tree, and the cherry blossoms are still clinging, staunchly against the wind tearing at them. He cups her chin, eyes searching hers. She always melts a little when he does that, like he has eyes only for her and no one else. Like she was the whole world to him.

"I'm making the best of my time. I wish I could be sure I'll see Chie grow up, see maybe even some grandchildren, but…" his voice trails off and he leans forward until their foreheads touch.

It's no trouble for her to wrap her arms around him and tilt her head so that she can kiss him. This is an old conversation, an old worry, and it never fades. When she wakes up, she always checks that he's next to her. If he's the first to wake up, he always tries to stay until she's awake before he gets out of bed.

But they never ask, "what if we've never heard of ochimizu or rasetsu."

It's because of that, Hijikata is still alive.

Chizuru has no desire to change the past. Certainly some things might be better changed, but in other ways…the way it's played out has been acceptable. She has a husband, a daughter, and a home. What else is there to want, aside from more time? Certainly not more love; Hijikata shows it, plenty. She still remembers when he was quite awkward about it and she smiles a little when they pull away to breathe.

"What?"

"In the beginning, I had to come after you. On a ship."

"Don't remind me. That wasn't a shining moment of my life. Can't believe I left you out there by yourself." He sweeps at his bangs and looks away.

"You've made up for it already," she reassures him, tugging on his bangs and admiring how smooth his hair feels. "But seeing your face when I opened the door is one I won't forget for a while."

" _Chizuru_." Hijikata pokes her. "I had a mood and you just ruined it."

"I'll let you get back to it." She giggles and lets him kiss her again. Her back bumps against the tree and she has a vague sense of where this is going.

"We're outside."

"There's no one here."

"Someone could arrive here."

"I doubt it."

She didn't think Hijikata could ever be carefree, but he definitely was. Her fingers scrabble when he kiss, finding purchase in the fabric, but that seems to slide too, away and away. She ends up tucking her hands into his belt; he makes a sound in the back of his throat that makes her warm and want to kiss him harder.

"I can stop, if you really don't want to be here for…" he whispers up next to her ear.

"No, go ahead." She digs her fingers in. "It's fine."

Desire always began with the mouth, with a kiss, and then it goes down. And his follows it with his mouth, tracing her jawline, then throat, and pulls her kimono slightly apart. He looks as if he wants to pull everything off her, but they're outside and they can't do that if they need to suddenly be discreet. But it's not like she can't feel him through the fabric; his hands are hotter than a fire and she pushes against them for more friction while somehow managing to kick her shoes off. Hopefully there won't be grass stains on her socks.

They end up sliding down the tree, with her sitting and him crouching in front of her. The sun is in her eyes so she shifts until he's blocking it out; it makes a halo around his head, the tips of his hair bright.

"Beautiful…" she hears herself saying, and then catching herself and blushes.

Hijikata kisses her cheek. "I was going to say that about you, but you beat me to it." He tilts his head. "If I'm beautiful, then…you're breathtaking."

They sound sappy. Ridiculous even. If anyone saw them, no one would believe he's Hijikata, commander of the Shinsengumi and that she was once scared of him, if by the way she's pulling him lower for a kiss.

And then things happen quickly from there. Downhill. Or uphill, so to speak. She has her hands in his kimono and she's mapping out familiar areas with her fingers. He appreciates it, nosing her ear and neck and kissing her over and over. She squirms when he bares a shoulder on her, his fingers pressing against her skin and sliding lower.

Hijikata breathes against her ear. "Keep your eyes open. In case…someone is here."

It's a little hard when all she wants to do is tilt her head back and close her eyes. But the fact he trusts her to keep watch is what makes her swallow, grip him a little more tightly, and look ahead. If anything, she's familiar with what he's doing, but it still makes her toes curl as she breathes out his name, fingers digging into him.

He makes a sound at that, the kind that makes her shiver and knead his shoulders as he goes half-sprawling in the grass. She still blushes but it's of anticipation, not anxiety. He knows what she likes, what makes her gasp, and what sends her over the edge.

"T—" she falters on his name, lips too dry. He understands, props himself up, and lets her dig her hands in his hair as they kiss and try to breathe at the same time.

" _Chizuru_." He always slips over the last two syllables of her name, slurring it ever-so-slightly. She loves it, how he makes her name sound so desirable to him, how he wets his lips with his tongue and then brushes them over hers.

She slides her own hand down, and is pleased when he stiffens his back, curls, and ends up knocking his forehead against the tree as he presses closer to her, while she kisses the side of his neck.

Hijikata Toshizou doesn't yield to people. He doesn't bow his head much, either. But he does, both, and to her. Love is a curious thing, and curiosity itself has led to this. Months and a year or two have culminated to this, a relationship. They chose each other, pursued and caught, and they handled each other.

Delicately.

Intimately.

She would take in the sight of Hijikata's half-lidded eyes and parted mouth, if not for the fact she's still looking beyond in case someone found this place. But hearing his gasps and how they match hers is enough and it's almost too soon that they push themselves over the edge and she squeezes her legs around his waist so tightly that he has to unlock them so that he could catch his breath.

It's so beautiful, when Hijikata looks at her like she's the center of his world, and she hopes she mirrors that expression.

They lay there for a few minutes, watching cherry blossoms drift down. Eventually, Hijikata sits up, tugs her so that her head is in her lap, and begins picking out grass and petals from her hair.

"You even got bark in it."

"Maybe we shouldn't have been leaning up against a tree." She fluffs his bangs and watches a petal onto her. "…how did we even end up like this?"

Hijikata has the grace to blush as he mumbles, "started kissing you, and I couldn't stop…"

She giggles, rolling over to sit up. "I don't mind it." Not the least bit.

They watch the last bit of sunset, gold and yellow and pink washing over them as they walk back home. Chizuru is already thinking about tomorrow's chores and meals, and about Chie. Hijikata is glancing at stores, likely making plans as well. Their feet kick up dust and flower petals, the remnants of spring slowly giving away to summer. She wonders if it will be humid here, like it was in Kyoto.

He once asked her, if she had wanted to move elsewhere. She had thought about it, and found within herself that there wasn't anything she had to return to; her father is dead, she has no other relatives, and Hijikata and Chie were all she had. So they had stayed, and now this is home.

Home—it's linking hands with her husband, picking up Chie, and walking together, the three of them. She looks up at Hijikata and likes the fact his jawline and forehead aren't tight with worry, and he walks with a slower gait. He's making sounds at their daughter to get her to giggle, and she leans in a little closer to him, suddenly feeling very fond of him.

They've done well, and she knows they'll continue to do so, for as long as they spend their days together.

**.end.**


End file.
